Man Vs Planet
by Feuerstoss
Summary: Chapter 8: In which a Cerinian vixen and a clueless human prepare for a dangerous descent into an ancient well...
1. Chapter 1

**Notes: As of this writing(20 Apr 2010), this story is most likely going to stay on the recesses of my desktop's hard drive. However, this is an exercise I'm starting just to have something to mess around with when I get bored of Zero Point, and as more of a first-person writing exercise. **

**Please keep in mind this is a blatant self-insert fic. However, unlike a lot of these, I'm not giving 'myself' some sort of superpowers, or magically making it so that I'm all-powerful. Consider it an exercise in making a subject that's pretty damn unwritable into something tolerable. Whether or not I actually accomplish this remains to be seen. Either way, this is really just something I'm writing to have fun and fuck around with... nothing serious. I likely won't post this, but if I do please understand that ZP will continue as per normal. If I do it will be with an M rating, mainly to keep it out of the 'normal' browsable fic loop. **

**However, a question I'm asking myself right now is this... what would happen if I found myself in the plot of **_**Adventures**_** right now? What if I had only the immediate resources at my disposal to survive, and the knowledge of the game to see me through? What I will promise you is this... unlike Brian's foray into Sauria in Zero Point, I won't have an armored vehicle with a heavy machine gun and a buttload of ammunition. Everything I describe in this 'fic I truly do have... and will present evidence on request.**

**Right now, as I'm feeling pretty sorry about the complete and utter lack of progress on ZP, I'm probably going to post this up, as of 12 July 2010. I'm either going to get flamed like Hell or praised to Heaven for this one, or at least as I can figure it. So, let me know if this is a side project you'd like me to continue or not. Majority rules on this one, and I'm sticking my ass out on the line. ZP's definitely not a dead project, but I've got a bit of a writer's block going on and feel really bad about not posting any new material for a while.**

**And, finally, even though this was a project that I was doing independently, there happens to be a contest for a believable self-inert story(WA Self-Insert Challenge**)**. I don't think I fit all the criteria, but considering I haven't really seen many entries I'm going to try posting it up anyway.**

Chapter 1: This Ain't Kansas Anymore...

I don't even remember what kind of dream I had... I usually don't remember them that well unless they're vivid and I'm sleeping pretty lightly. For a guy that apparently sleeps like the dead; enough to where I have to practically be punched awake, remembering a dream is a seldom occurrence.

Either way, my sleep was shattered by the shrill alarm I had set on my cell phone. The closest I could describe it to would be a high-pitched bleating mechanical sheep that some no-talent trance 'artist' had decided to run through Auto-Tune six times... the damn sound nearly hurt my ears when it went off, and never failed to rouse me out of my sleep. That was a good thing, as without it my biological clock would finally kick in about ten minutes before I was supposed to be at work.

I groggily lifted my head off my pillow, the dim cast of my bedroom greeting my eyes. For some reason I had painted it a Wedgewood shade of blue right after I moved into the house I was renting... I think it was because I was sick of staring at plain white walls. Either way I sliced it, it kept the glare down in the room I used solely to sleep in these days. After getting the house to myself a few months ago... the product of the uncle that had been my roommate getting married as well as my ex-girlfriend storming out after one last bitter fight... I had branched out and used the rest of the place for, well... my things.

The phone, perched upon a minifridge that I used as a nightstand on my queen-sized bed, continued to sing its ear-offending song. After suppressing the thought of chucking that expensive piece of electronics across the room, I flipped it open and shut off the alarm. As I blinked away the weariness from my eyes, the legend "No Service Avail." was printed across the screen. Odd. I had never had a service outage with this phone. If it wasn't a few minute fluke, I'd use the land line from work and take my lunch break to grill a hapless Verizon customer service rep.

Glancing at the phone's clock, it was half past seven in the morning... an hour and a half before I needed to get my ass into work. "Jesus... looks like it's going to be a marvelous day already." I muttered to myself as I got up and stumbled to the door leading into the bathroom.

My hand knew the drill enough times over the past five years, reaching out to flick the light switch on. I expected the harsh roar of the far too large exhaust fan and clean, bright light... and I got neither. That shook me out of my mind enough to mutter again. "Fuck." Power outage, too? Just great. At least I didn't necessarily have to have the bathroom light on to take a shower, and the light streaming in from the small bathroom window would give me enough to see by. However, the bathroom would get fogged up to hell due to the fan staying off... ah well. My hand went down to the hem of my boxers as the other one simultaneously turned out the shower faucet... only to also receive nothing but a few random splashes on the plastic shower floor instead of the expected torrent from the showerhead.

That woke me up in an instant. "What the fuck is going on?" I asked myself, looking around as if the answer would have suddenly appeared in front of me. It didn't, obviously. It was like the entire house was dead. _Something_ was wrong. I paid the utility bill, so why was everything cut off? Blackout... combined with running water failure? This didn't make sense. Offering a sigh to the still air, I exited the bathroom to see what I could do.

The layout of my house was strange... although that was common for houses built in the 1920's. The bathroom was set in-between the two bedrooms... with no access to the rest of the house. I could make my way through the house by using the bedrooms... which I normally did. My target was the breaker box in the backyard... that caused me to stop in the second bedroom and grab a pair of jeans that I had set on the dresser there. I pulled on the garment to at least shield the neighbors from the sight of me running around outside in boxers in the middle of the day... then exited the house through the back door.

I stopped dead in my tracks as the cool, still air hit me. This was the precise instant that I knew something was _seriously_ wrong in my personal part of the world. However... all I could manage to maintain was a growing curiosity... and a gnawing pit in my stomach.

My house stood in an old suburb about four miles north of my city's downtown... established neighborhood going downhill, tightly packed houses... that sort of thing. I had a backyard that was comprised mostly of a concrete patio and a fence... beyond which I could see three houses less than forty feet from me in each direction. The duplex off to my left with the barking dogs was gone. So was the cottage directly in front of me; part of the property but occupied with another renter. The two-story house to my right was also missing.

"What the fuck...?" I managed to utter. It had been replaced by wilderness... some sort of cliff face rose maybe the height of my house. I couldn't see much more than that. My hand went to my arm, giving my flesh a vicious pinch. I winced and dropped my hand. Was I still dreaming or something?

I stepped back into the house... emerging into the small room that was my office. It was my sanctum of a sort... my desktop computer, sound system... it was where I wrote the troubles of the world away. But, no amount of typing on the old IBM Model M keyboard that sat on my desk would erase the fear that was slowly building up in the pit of my stomach. I suddenly felt very unprotected.

Looking around the room, I had my choice of weapons. The small collection of firearms I had stashed in the room beckoned to me, placed in a standalone gun safe tucked in a corner. As my hands trembled I dialed in the combination... it took me two attempts until the door was open.

I only kept one pistol out in the open... the one that I expressly used as defense against intruders. My FEG PA-63 fired 9x18mm Makarov... and if a situation warranted my house suddenly being somewhere it wasn't, I thought I needed something more powerful. My hands grabbed my Remington 870 pump-action shotgun from the safe, soon afterwards grabbing a box of #4 buckshot shells from the top shelf. I kept most of my ammunition elsewhere in the office, but this would do for now.

I fumbled with stuffing the twelve-gauge shells into the gun... four of them, racking the pump, then one more. I stuffed the pockets of my jeans with as many shells as I could... all the while thinking what the hell might be out there? Where the hell am I? What the fuck was I actually doing here?

Now equipped with a fully loaded shotgun, I decided I was well armed and confident enough to investigate. I wound my way through the living room this time, keeping the scattergun at the ready as if I was expecting the likes of Jason Vorhees to jump out of the walls at me. Eventually I reached the door and unlocked it... stepping forth onto my porch.

There was no time for me to react... only the surprised hissing of two... things that had been approaching my front door. My mind tunnel-visioned on them, hastily sizing them up. They were lizard-men... big and bulky ones at that. They stood nearly my height of five-ten, and probably outweighed me by twice my one-eighty. They looked somewhat familiar, but my mind didn't have time to ponder _that_ curious thought. They plodded towards me, only the fact they started to brandish the axes in their scaly hands snapping me out of my shock-frozen state.

It was then that I still noticed I had the shotgun clenched in my white-knuckle grip. I had purchased it from my stepbrother two years ago... hadn't even fired it since then. I was holding it at my hip, but the business end was pointed at one of the lizards. Without even thinking about it, I jerked the trigger. Nothing happened. "Fuck!" I cursed my stupidity, my finger snapping the safety off in a single press. As the lizard-thing just about reached me, I pulled the trigger again.

The Remington belched flame, smoke, and lead in a tremendous roar that made my ears ring. The close confines instantly reminded me of the slight hearing loss I gave myself when I was sixteen, fooling around with my dad's old AK clone in the backwoods of Louisiana. However, for all the noise it had the desired effect.

The lizard-thing was kicked backwards, a hole nearly the size of a quarter blown into its chest. Even though the hole looked small, I knew enough about shotguns to know that the lizard-thing had taken about the same amount of punishment as if I emptied a small caliber revolver into it. Its compatriot stopped in its tracks, looking at the stricken lizard-thing tumbling backwards in slow motion. Time seemed to slow for me as well... my hands racked the pump and threw the shotgun to my shoulder.

The lizard-thing didn't recover from the shotgun blast and its dying buddy in time. All I knew was that it was running at me with an ax, and that was a pretty good indication of its intent. I pulled the trigger again, my ears protesting with pain as the blast once again spiked my ears. This time I felt the recoil, a quick, powerful jolt to my shoulder. The other lizard-thing fell the same way.

It wasn't until I lowered the shotgun that I realized what had happened. My body started shaking at the realization... I had just engaged two armed opponents with a firearm and killed them. I felt... sick. Ten minutes ago I was sleeping soundly in my bed... another average day awaiting me. Now, I had two dead lizard-things on my front porch, a smoking shotgun in my hands, and the beginnings of a pretty bad headache.

I took a deep breath as I finally looked out over the scenery that was beyond my porch... besides the dead lizards. A little piece of it was my front yard... not really much of one. The street crews outside had been wanting to repave the street for some time... that was the reason my car was pulled up in the yard... damned lack of a driveway or garage in which to put it. It was still there, but the street simply... wasn't. Green grass and idyllic scenery replaced it... the place I was in looked like some sort of valley. A familiar valley. Wait a minute...

My eyes snapped down to the lizard-things I had just shot. Their profiles started looking more and more familiar. Instead of seeing them as some fucked-up snarling beast ready to cleave me in half with a giant ax, I looked closer. Their armor cinched it... and my jaw dropped open.

"What the fucking hell is going on with me?" I shouted to what I now knew were two dead Sharpclaw... the reptilian antagonists to that video game I played several times... the video game I had been using to write stories that were based on the storyline. I felt myself fall to my knees, my hands still clenched onto my shotgun as I watched my view of reality slide away... was I going insane? Had I snapped? Was I dead? Was I really sucked into some sort of video game, a fictional universe?

I started breathing so hard I was nearly hyperventilating... honestly, other than the fact I didn't want to be gutted by another Sharpclaw, I would have welcomed it. There was simply no way in Hell that I was experiencing this... there had to be a logical, rational explanation...

...but I found none. The facts were as clear as day. Somehow my house was _in_ Thorntail Hollow... the hub portion of _Starfox Adventures._ Actually, it was tucked away not too far where Fox parked his Arwing at. I could even see a small group of Thorntail regarding me... I think they were looking at me curiously. At least I knew they were pretty timid... Hell, they were scared shitless if their damn night lights were snuffed out. Least I didn't have to worry about _them_ charging me. "Fuck, fuck... FUCK!" I shouted, primarily out of frustration. I was confused, angry... isolated. I somehow had to survive in what I up to about thirty seconds ago thought was just a damned video game.

I was quaking in my socks as I stood up and retreated back into my house, slamming the door behind me. I locked it... fat lot of good it'd do against an ax, but at least I'd have the warning of my front door being busted in.

My curiosity overtook me and I took the few steps to my entertainment center. Rifling through it I came across what I was looking for... a Gamecube game case. I examined it, knowing exactly what I was looking at.

The cover art for the game I somehow found myself in stared me right in the face. The iconic Fox McCloud stood in the foreground, an ornate staff extended in his paws. Next to him were Slippy Toad, Peppy Hare, and Prince Tricky... Fox's dinosaur sidekick. Right behind him was Krystal... the enigmatic Cerinian who ended up as Fox's fellow wingman and love interest in the next game.

The Sharpclaw were also depicted as well, but their real-life counterparts were a hell of a lot less... cartoony. They looked like comical, bungling bad guys on the cover art, but they looked pretty menacing face to face. Hell... they nearly killed me, and I was armed with a fucking 12-gauge.

I needed to investigate; to get my bearings. And for that... I needed to prepare.


	2. Chapter 2: Explorer

**Notes: This is the second part to this exercise. Actually, I'm surprised at how much I've been able to get done, and hopefully writing this spurs on some more ideas for the next chapter of ZP. I do feel like I'm beating a dead horse, but the main point of this is to churn out something for a contest and have some fun while I'm at it.**

**As I mentioned in the last chapter I have everything I describe from here on out… I even loaded myself up as I describe myself in this chapter and moved around. Firstly, don't think you can wander around with a bunch of guns and ammunition on your person and think you'll be okay… the stuff weighs a ton.**

**I'm not completely sold on the idea where I have 'myself' meet Krystal in the next chapter. Feedback and suggestions would be nice. Once again, it's been a good exercise for writing in the first-person, so flames or not I won't complain. Thanks for reading.**

Chapter 2: Explorer.

What should have taken me about an hour to put together took three... I was very wary about more Sharpclaw coming along and busting down my door. But at the end of it all, I was loaded for bear and ready to figure out why the Hell I was in Thorntail Hollow. By my cell phone, I was late for work by about half an hour. I would have called in sick if I could, but what would I have said? 'Sorry, boss, I'm stuck in an alternate reality fighting lizardmen and dinosaurs from outer space? I'll be in bright and early tomorrow.'?

The thought made me chuckle... like I had reason to laugh. Still, I was about as ready as I would ever be... even though I looked like a damn moron. I glanced at myself in the mirror one last time... I was about to head out into this great wide open... although it didn't matter what the hell I looked like.

I scrounged up an old set of British fatigues I had bought years ago... whenever I had thought about getting back into Airsofting a few years ago. Surprisingly, they fit. Personally, I felt like one of those bums wandering around in old, worn camo, but they were durable and that's what mattered. I had also found a set of black mechanics' gloves... great to grip things with if I had sweaty hands.

To add to the urban camper persona, my backpack was bulging to the seams. I had it packed full of ammunition, food, and a few items that I would possibly need when wandering around. It was heavy as hell, but that weight held my survival... in the form of canned goods, ammunition, and a couple of water bottles. All of my perishable stuff was toast, or going close to it... so I was going to be stuck with canned ravioli, ramen noodles, and tuna fish for as long as I had them.

I was still well armed, however. I raided my gun safe for pretty much anything I could carry. The most powerful firearm I had was my Enfield... the old No. 1 Mk 3*. The rifle was manufactured during World War I, and by the looks of all the gouges and scratches in the stock was possibly used then. Firing full-power .303 British rifle rounds, it could reach out about as far as I could see. I had about a hundred and fifty rounds for it... not a whole lot but enough to get me by for a while.

A holster sitting in a crossdraw position on my left hip held my revolver, a Taurus M627. Chambered in .357 Magnum, I wasn't going to leave it behind. I had around fifty rounds for it, and a bag of questionable .38 Special handloads that I wasn't too keen on firing.

My M1911A1 sat in a drop-down tactical holster on my right thigh. It was an Auto-Ordnance model... not the best quality piece in the world but not the worst. The sights were screwed up a little bit, but it still shot just fine. It fired powerful .45ACP rounds... and I had nearly two hundred of them stashed in my backpack as well as in a few of my pockets. I had thirty-three at my instant disposal, thanks to the four magazines I had for it.

The shotgun was strapped to my backpack with a couple of bungee cords and the backpack's own compression strap. It would take some doing to work loose, but I wasn't about to leave it behind. The fact I didn't have the ability to put a sling on it compounded things, but I had to make do. I also had about two hundred shotgun shells as well... making it my most well-stocked piece other than the .45.

Two other pistols resided in my backpack... I was serious about my target shooting. One was the PA-63 I used primarily as a nightstand gun, and the other was a Browning Buck Mark .22LR target pistol. I wasn't sure the .22 would have been enough to fend off anything Sauria would throw my way... but I didn't want anyone else getting their hands on it.

One thing I would have commented about was that this entire rig was heavy. I'm in my late-20s, and hadn't been that active ever since I got a car after high school. I'm also slightly overweight, so you could tell my trepidation about carrying a full load-out of gear around just to poke my head out in the open. But... I didn't have a choice. I may have looked like a complete overloaded moron, but I had to do it.

I took stock of myself one last time. The fact of the matter was I had a huge set of cards stacked against my favor. I wasn't some sort of born, trained warrior. I was some sort of average guy with a bit of an interest in firearms. I knew how to shoot a gun... at a target range. Before this day I'd never fired off a shot in anger; never went through combat. I admitted I was scared shitless. I wanted my life back... not some sort of strange-ass fantasy videogame where I was going to have to figure out the clues. Hell, I couldn't speak Saurian. It may have been some sort of simple cipher language based off of English, but without a working computer I had no way of knowing how to speak it. I'd have to learn on my way...

...or hope for Fox to show up. That was fuckin' fantastic... I was going to have to rely on a fictional character to survive out here... if he would even show up. This could have very well been before or after the timeline of the actual game... it could have been some sort of alternate universe? If so... I may have been fucked already.

I pushed those thoughts out of my mind. If I started thinking like that, I would lose focus. I needed to find out what was going on, and how to fix what I found. One thing I had in my favor was that I knew the game. I knew where to go, and generally what to do. I may be able to blunder through... it may have taken Fox just his staff and the support of the Starfox team to get through it... but I had a bunch of guns and my own internal strategy guide.

With those thoughts echoing through my head I walked out of the house. I didn't even bother locking the door. I still had plenty of valuable stuff in there, but all the advanced weapons on the planet were in my possession. I stepped past the Sharpclaw bodies to emerge into the daylight, casting an eye over the Hollow. I let my mind go to work.

The Sharpclaw were still there and a threat. At the end of the game General Scales had been defeated, meaning the Sharpclaw didn't have the need to guard everything anymore. That logic took me to the assumption that I was either placed before or at the beginning of the game. I didn't see Fox's Arwing out there... or the impressions its landing gear would have made in the soil it would have parked on. That told me that Fox hadn't been here yet.

The feeling that I was here at the start of the game was pretty much compelling. Now... how would I go about things? I didn't have a way to translate Saurian, and I wasn't going to simply wait and see how many Sharpclaw would beat me up... something told me they'd have a fun time ransacking my house and putting dents in my car out in front, anyway.

The sudden thought of Fox coming across a house and a wheeled vehicle next to his landing spot caused me to laugh a bit... that would be comedy gold. Fox being told he wouldn't be able to take a blaster... while I traipsed about with several guns. It was a good thing I didn't see any Sharpclaw... I didn't want to be caught off guard.

Another thought itched at my mind, causing me to walk forward. I was already sweating a bit under the fatigues and makeshift helmet... it was going to be a hard day. Still I kept on, winding up at a small copse of trees and an equally small field of wildflowers, jutting up from the soil like a defiant piece of pure beauty.

It was in the middle of this copse that Krystal's staff would be. I wouldn't have much idea how to use it, but Fox learned from scratch... I might have been able to as well. However... nothing that day seemed to turn out to be right. The copse was empty; Krystal's staff wasn't anywhere to be seen.

I gave a sigh to the still air... the only real sound I had made in nearly an hour. I looked like a well-armed moron, and right now I had no damn clue what to do. Krystal's staff was an integral piece of the game. I doubted I'd complete a lot of those staff puzzles with a rifle or shotgun. "Fuck..." I muttered. "Not even a few hours into this and I'm stuck." Nobody spoke English around there... except... maybe? A wave of hope passed through my mind, and I cast my glance towards the stream that bisected the Hollow. The waterfall that housed a certain lagoon lay beyond it... and I knew exactly what I needed to do. It wouldn't be easy... but at least I wasn't stuck.

My goal was to reach the Warpstone at that lagoon... but the fact of the matter was that it would take some doing. He was behind a stone wall, which meant I had to find some of those bomb spores... and hope a bullet would set them off. Also, he would need that rock candy that the shopkeeper sold in order to even talk to anyone... so I had to collect those damned Scarab bugs and get it.

I glanced around until I found the large, onion-like plant nestled by the creek... that was my target. In the game, Fox used Krystal's staff to blow it up, which then expelled seeds. I'd need one of them... and hope like hell it'd grow as quickly as the ones in the game. But... would it attract too much attention?

I had noticed several Thorntail dinosaurs staring at me curiously... I had no idea how they would react, but in the game they were pretty cowardly. Perhaps I scared the hell out of them... a bipedal outsider festooned with guns and household equipment. But, I needed to do what I needed to do.

I reached down and unholstered my .45, backing up so that there was a distance of about fifty yards between me and the spore... I didn't want to get blown up along with it. It was about the maximum range I felt confident shooting at a person with the M1911... but the spore was also a hell of a lot larger than an average man. I gripped the handgun with both hands and settled the sights on the spore. My thumb flicked the safety off, and I pulled the trigger.

The .45 barked harshly into the still air and was followed immediately by a thunderous explosion. The pressure wave pushed at my exposed skin as the spore vaporized... leaving three forearm-length seeds floating back to earth. I ran forward and managed to collect two of them before the third floated out of my grasp... not a bad haul. I gently tucked them into my pocket and prepared myself for the next task... just then noticing the Thorntail giving me a very wide berth.

I must have spooked them pretty good, which probably didn't earn me many plus points in their favor. I wasn't going to like that very much eventually, but I had to continue to focus on the task at hand. The shopkeeper's cave was a straight shot across the creek, and if I remembered right there were a couple of areas where I could pick up some of that insectoid currency right inside.

At this point I should comment again on how hard it was for me to move fast. I was carrying possibly over a hundred pounds of guns, ammunition, food, and water… and I wasn't used to carrying much over my ten pounds of electronics gear to school and back. Add that to a left knee that had been dislocated a few months ago and neglected afterwards, and you could understand the reasons why I moved pretty slowly. I also didn't want to fall in the water at all… that would spell disaster for my guns and ammunition if I did so… or at least several hours' worth of cleaning and drying them. Rusted guns would cause me to become a dead man pretty quickly out here.

I waded through the creek and crossed the hundred yard distance to the mouth of Shabunga's cave easily enough. However, the challenges I had before me were enough to make me cringe. For some stupid reason, the game designers had decided to make getting into the shop a bit of an ordeal. First, you climbed down into a ten foot deep pit, then you climbed back out. Realistically, this would keep out nearly all of the shop's saurian customer base… I didn't know many dinosaurs that could either fit inside a medium-sized cave, or be able to climb up and down the stone walls.

However, it appeared that reality closely followed game design on this count. I almost burst out laughing at the absurdity of it all… here I was, a guy that wasn't even able to do a single pull-up in gym class, and I was faced with all of this while carrying enough guns and ammo to overthrow a banana republic. It dawned on me that I'd need to find a safe place to stash most of my gear… someplace away from a certain shopkeeper that would probably love to scavenge my ammunition and sell it back to me for exorbitant prices.

With a sigh I shrugged my backpack off and set it next to the ledge… it'd be safe enough, or so I hoped. I also set my rifle and shotgun down, but opted to keep my utility belt and handguns. I wasn't about to go anywhere around here without my .357 and .45 strapped to my sides.

Like Brian Lancing, the character I wrote about putting through the same trials I apparently would have to go through; I have a pretty nasty fear of heights. Even this ten foot drop was a bit too much, and I gingerly climbed down it. My luck finally held out for once, as there were two small wicker baskets sitting down there with me. I recognized them instantly… scarab containers. I would have some money, at the very least. Thankful of the fact I was wearing gloves, I pried the top off of one of them and reached inside.

I also hate insects and arachnids… spiders and bugs creep the hell out of me. It took some willpower to force down the wave of revulsion that followed me picking up a squirming, hand-sized insect with mandibles the size of a nasty set of pliers and stuffing it into a cargo pocket. Repeating that act several times also added a slight wave of nausea as well as a constant squirming feeling all over my body. I hoped to God that they wouldn't try to bite me…. That would make my day a lot worse.

Miraculously, I climbed up the second ledge without incident and strode the short distance into the shop proper. I was greeted by the interior of the shop I had spent a goodly portion of my virtual time in, complete with a greedy dinosaur merchant riding some sort of hovering contraption.

Just like the Sharpclaw I had wasted earlier, Shabunga looked a lot less 'cartoony' in real life… his likeness in the game was pretty much a comical rendition of what he looked like in 'reality.' I wasn't even entirely sure if what I was going through was reality in the first place. Either way, I'd have to deal with him. Least to the best of my knowledge he was one of the few Saurians that actually spoke English… I'd be in pretty damn big trouble if Fate decided to have him speak Japanese, at the very least. "Hey there." I offered, informally.

"The strange customer speaks, then." Shabunga offered in his trademark hissing voice. Actually, until I had been corrected by reading through some of the official literature I'd been convinced he was actually female. He definitely sounded like a crabby old lady. "You come to look around, or to actually buy something?" The 'real' Shabunga definitely was as rude as the one in the game. An evil thought crossed my mind, spurred by my virtual efforts to have Fox McCloud smack that reptilian merchant with his staff. Here I was, right in front of one of the most annoying characters in the game… and I had the power to make him eat lead and be on my merry way.

It took a fraction of a second for me to decide not to. Yes, he was a greedy bastard and a thief, but simply waltzing into his shop and gunning him down wouldn't make me out to be much of a good guy. I didn't want everyone in Lylat after my ass just in case I wasn't in a dream or locked away in Cedar Springs. That didn't mean I wasn't going to be an asshole about it, though. "Yeah. I'm working my fingers to the bone and busting my ass just to give you a few squirming bugs in exchange for what I need to get off of this hellhole. So… shut your yap and let me find what I need this time."

"Fine." Shabunga snorted and to my surprise shut up. He quite literally hovered behind me as I made my way to the item I needed... a plate-sized piece of stone with a resin orb sitting in the center. Apparently it was some sort of candy the Warpstone liked, which would get me in his good graces. Either way, I extracted a few of those bugs from my pockets and shoved them towards Shabunga. "This should cover it." I muttered, snatching the piece of stone before I could get a reply in return. "Hell of a business model you got here."

To my surprise Shabunga looked delighted at the scarabs I had given him… I probably overpaid, but I didn't really care. I didn't want snapping insects stuffed down my pants, no matter how much they were worth. "Enjoy it, strange one."

"Believe me, I'll try." I really didn't want to stick around too much longer. If my assumptions were right, time was running out on an opportunity to make my job here a hell of a lot easier. Without any preamble I walked back the way I came… taking my sweet time climbing down and then back up with a ten-pound, plate-sized chunk of sweetened granite.

The trip up to the lagoon was a lot harsher than it had ever been in the virtual world, mostly because I was once again wearing a combat loadout that outweighed what most Marines carried. I was definitely going to have to find a safe place to stash my excess supplies; there would be no way I could make it that far with all my gear.

I slipped the backpack and long guns off as I reached the top of the natural 'ramp' that led to the lagoon. My luck was going to be put to the test once more as I pulled out one of the seeds I had collected earlier. Kneeling down and burying it in the patch of dirt right in front of the wall, I wondered if they would actually grow as fast as they did in the game. I'd find out in a bit.

The spore did grow that quickly, much to my surprise. I actually fell backwards on my ass as the big plant erupted from the ground with a sickly stretching sound. It wasn't as quick as the game had made it out to be… but within two minutes I was staring a mature bomb spore in the face.

I reached down for the .45 again… but stopped. I wondered if my Buck Mark would have the punch to set it off… it'd cut down on my ammo usage considerably, and I already had plenty of .22 rounds. I walked back to my pack and extracted it… the handgun deceptively light in my hands. I racked the slide, chambering a diminutive cartridge into its chamber… moving back as I did so. I took aim on the spore, flicked the safety off and pulled the trigger.

The .22's report was muted, sounding like a firecracker in comparison to the .45's harsh bark. It did have the desired effect, however. The bomb spore erupted in a flash of light and noise, taking the wall beyond with it. As the destroyed masonry crumbled to the ground I couldn't help but grin… I wasn't a pyromaniac but that was pretty damned fun. I paused enough to collect my things and walked into the lagoon proper.

The Warpstone was there as I had expected him to be. As I wandered around the lagoon I was just about convinced this would be a pretty safe hideout and base for all my gear. For some reason I had always liked it here. Everything seemed tranquil, serene… safe. Although, with a big stone guardian that could probably bench an Abrams I considered that par for the course.

The big guy was snoring, which meant he was definitely sleeping. The fact that he could sleep through an explosion was definitely disconcerting… although from what I remember he'd fell asleep about the time the Holy Roman Empire was around back home.

There was a large dais that would rise up to meet him. I set my backpack down and pulled the plate-sized rock candy out of it… the amount of junk I was carrying around was ridiculous, if you asked me. Still, I hefted the rock in my hands and stood on the dais.

It was like an elevator of some sort. It almost threw me off my balance and once again on my ass, but I managed to stay upright. The downside was now that I was facing a several hundred ton, fifty foot-tall talking statue that wasn't exactly thrilled to see me.

"After a thousan' years, who wants to disturb mah slumber?" One thing that cracked me up in the game was that the Warpstone sounded almost exactly like Fat Bastard in the Austin Powers movies. Actually, I even wrote about my protagonist snickering about it when they first met… but politeness was key here."But, ye seem to be a polite one, lad… even brought me a gift!" He reached down and deftly plucked the plate-sized candy from my hands. That was a little disconcerting, as his thumb and forefinger could have easily crushed me like a bug. Without any pause he tossed it into his cavernous maw as nonchalantly as I would have eaten a piece of popcorn. "Now… that was the way to greet a Warpstone, lad! No… who be you, and what do ye want?"

Great… action time. I definitely hadn't rehearsed this. I guess the best thing for me to do now would be to tell it to him straight. "The name's Adam. I really don't know how I ended up here, but here I am. Honestly… I need some help sorting out what the hell's going on here… especially since I don't speak the local language." However… leaving out the fact that this was a video game seemed pretty prudent. I didn't want anyone to question my sanity.

"Aye… I think I can help with that. You're on Sauria, lad. We're in fer some rough times… I may have been asleep but me ears keep me well enough informed. General Scales… a cruel tyrant… e's all but taken Sauria over. 'E stole all the Spellstones from their rightful places. The entire world's in danger of breakin' apart. The Krazoa Spirits have been hidden, but they can't stand up to Scales all by themselves." It was pretty much a retelling of _Adventure's_ plot, but I could follow it well enough.

"The only tribe to stand up to Scales and 'is Sharpclaw are the Earthwalkers. Their queen is safe and sound right here… but the few that haven't fallen in battle are makin' a last-ditch attempt at bringin' in outside help. They're at the Krazoa Palace as we speak." The gigantic living statue paused for a moment. "Are ye saying you want to help, lad?"

I gave a curt nod… knowing how that particular story turned out helped spur me on a little bit. However… there was the matter of a certain Cerinian that was about to come onto the stage in short order.

These were the facts: The Earthwalkers' stand at Krazoa Palace would fail. Krystal was also headed there, and Scales would have her imprisoned in that giant crystal until Fox could get her out. I had no idea how long it would take Fox to get here after that… and I really didn't have the time to sit around with my thumb up my ass waiting for him. It sounded like one of those hairbrained schemes, but it was looking like I'd have to do it.

Krystal could speak both Saurian and English… and I needed a translator. She could fly a spacecraft… which I would be completely hopeless at. She was also a telepath. It would be awkward as hell, running to the rescue of a fictional character. It was even more awkward since I had written this into one of my stories in the past. However… instead of Brian, _I_ was the one standing there with the gun in my hands. I wondered what the hell I was thinking. I had no combat training, and I wasn't the risktaking type

But… I was now forced to at least attempt to save a fictional blue vixen from a pretty nasty fate. I was the only one who knew what was going to happen. I was the only one out there that had potential to stop it. I was no hero. In fact, I was scared shitless. I was ill-prepared and ill-equipped… my best weapons were a rifle that was pushing a century old and a shotgun outfitted for duck hunting, not combat.

Life had taught me how to be flexible, but this was ridiculous. Warriors were trained to not fear death. I sure as hell feared it… especially on some Godforsaken planet. I wondered about my family and my friends… how much I'd be missed by them. Would I ever see them again?

Taking a deep breath I pointed to my backpack. "I need a couple of minutes to prepare, and then I'll be ready. Take me to Krazoa Palace… I'll help as much as I can."


	3. Chapter 3: Assault

Chapter 3: Assault.

Going through a warp gate was an… _interesting_ experience to say the least. Actually, it was like riding some twisted roller coaster that was taking the express ride to Hell, complete with psychedelic lights and swirling colors that would have made even Hunter Thompson put the LSD away. Needless to say, because of my fear of heights, falling, and an overall poor stomach, I wasn't doing so well when I finally arrived at Krazoa Palace.

I materialized on my feet, thankfully; but the nausea that welled up inside my stomach made me forget everything else. I bent over and promptly lost the last vestiges of last night's spaghetti dinner. There went that one last shred of dignity. Ugh. I unhooked my water bottle from my utility belt and washed my mouth of the acrid taste, spitting it out onto a stone floor already soaked with rain. That was when I noticed I was standing in the middle of a rainstorm. Just my luck.

From what I remembered from the game the Krazoa Palace was hidden inside a perpetual storm, making it difficult to get to for most of the natives. I tried to get my bearings, but the place was a bit unfamiliar to me. All I could tell was that I was on a large platform built onto the side of the Palace; a balcony of sorts.

I bent down and picked my Remington up from the floor; I had apparently dropped it. This time I had packed a bit lighter… just the scattergun, handguns, and a moderate amount of ammunition for all of them. I hoped it would be enough. Once again I ran my mantra through my head: conserve ammunition, make my shots count. If I ran out of ammo, I was screwed. I was equipped well enough to be a very nasty threat to the Sharpclaw that were going to attack the Palace, but without the protection of a good firearm I was a sitting duck. I wasn't crazy enough to try and take on a rampaging lizard twice my size with my bare hands.

I was, however, crazy enough to take them on with a shotgun… and that was precisely why I was there. If this was truly me in the game, my presence here was definitely changing the timeline. Part of me wondered if I really should even be doing this, but the more logical part of me fought back with the fact that if I didn't do _something_ to help out, I was going to end up dead.

I pushed forward, shotgun held at the ready. I was starting to get soaked through the fatigues, and I wanted to get inside rather quickly. The torrential downpour subsided to a steady drizzle once I ducked under an overhang, beyond which I spotted a moderately-sized wooden door.

The door took quite a bit of effort to open. My best guess was that it was around five hundred pounds; meant for some pretty big creatures, judging by the size of the dinosaurs that frequented the place. It took me basically shoulder-checking the door to get it open far enough for me to actually enter. I wiggled my way into a torchlit stone chamber, thankfully out of the rain for the time being.

I was alone for the moment, which gave me enough time to try to get my bearings. The bluish-gray stonework combined with intricate stone carvings gave me no doubt I was in the right place. I took a moment to look at them, keeping my ears open for the sound of approaching footsteps.

I was no archaeologist, but the style mimicked ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. Depictions of robed alienesque figures interacting with dinosaurs peppered the symbols; Krazoa Spirits dealing with the Saurians, I assumed. My guess was that this was some sort of historical record. They were interesting, even if I couldn't make any sense of it.

However, I had to pull myself from admiring the artwork. There was going to be an attack soon, and even though they weren't expecting me I had to help the Earthwalkers push the Sharpclaw back. Maybe I would even be successful at doing it… just maybe. I turned and started walking down the corridor, keeping my Remington at the ready.

I emerged from the corridor into familiar territory. The room had been an offshoot of the main room of the Palace; an enormous cylindrical chamber that housed a very large jewel. In the game the jewel was Krystal's prison, which was where I really _didn't_ need her to be. Again, I wondered if I was nuts or desperate, feeling like my entire survival depended upon the game's damsel in distress. Either way, it all seemed very goddamn surreal.

I glanced over the edge and sure enough the jewel was sitting there, two-hundred feet below me at the bottom of the chamber. I looked upwards; suddenly thankful I was somehow on the top level of the Palace. That meant I wouldn't have to ride those damned air-elevators that I had such a hard time navigating Fox through. In the virtual world a fall from this height knocked a few easily-regained health shards from him, but I was pretty sure a fall like that would turn me into a grease spot.

An idea crossed my mind and a grin tugged at my lips… why not destroy that jewel right now, or at least try to? I slid the Remington into what counted as a makeshift scabbard on my backpack and reached for my revolver. The Taurus stood the highest chance of actually penetrating the jewel out of anything I had… the .357's advantage lay in its velocity and power. I braced the pistol on the balcony's railing, took aim, and pulled the trigger.

The nicely cushioned grips and ported barrel kept the Taurus very much on target as I ripped through the entire cylinder as fast as I could pull the trigger; the noise startlingly loud even in the big chamber. Seven rounds were gone in the matter of a few seconds, a gamble which I hoped would work.

It didn't. The jewel didn't even look like it was hit at all, even though I know I at least scored a few on it. "Fuck!" I hissed, unsure whether to be ticked off more at the waste of ammo or the fact the jewel still stood intact. It didn't take but a few seconds to realize I had made a _big_ mistake. Growls and hisses of alarm filled the level, which meant I was pretty much caught with my pants down. Had the Sharpclaw already arrived?

I started to shake as I reloaded my pistol; my hands fumbling with sliding fresh cartridges into the revolver's cylinder. I shoved it back into its holster and extracted the shotgun. It'd have to do. I was as ready as I was going to be.

A flash of movement at the corner of my eye alerted me to the fact that the bastards were already pouring out onto the balcony. I tucked the shotgun into my shoulder and backed away into the hall I had emerged from. If I could catch them in a chokepoint I might have a chance.

More hissing and growling popped in from behind me, which meant only one thing: _they_ had forced _me_ into a chokepoint. I didn't even have seconds to make a decision on what to do; the reptilian soldiers were already funneling into the hallway. Going back would force me out onto a small balcony over an unimaginable drop, or moving forward would put me into direct combat with a whole mess of them. I chose forward.

I rushed ahead, emptying the shotgun into the mass of Sharpclaw in front of me. The blasts killed a few, but more importantly drove several of them back. The downside was that I didn't have enough time to reload or put the Remington away. Taking advantage of the couple of seconds of hesitation I bolted, pushing past the stunned Saurians while pulling out my M1911.

There wasn't really anything I could do to make a stand; there were simply too many of them around. Actually I was pretty sure I was royally fucked, since the Sharpclaw gathered their senses pretty quickly and started to surround me. They were startled again when a bellowing roar sounded off behind them… loud enough to cause me to temporarily forget I was surrounded by twenty lizards the size of your average NFL quarterback and armed with lots of nasty, pointy weapons. However, the Sharpclaw now weren't the worst of my worries.

One of the Earthwarkers had decided to come out and join the fray. While they were technically on my side, I didn't think he knew that. He was charging across the balcony, rushing in to ram the group of Sharpclaw that had surrounded me. The cavalry had arrived, but getting squashed by a seven ton dinosaur would make me just as dead as being shanked by ten Sharpclaw. There was only one option.

I raised the 1911 up and fired into the thinnest portion of the crowd; the ones standing near the balustrade overlooking the large jewel. A few of them went down as my pistol cycled empty, and I took my chances. I ran forward, stepping onto a Sharpclaw's corpse then onto the railing, taking a mighty leap as the Earthwalker smashed into the crowd.

Heights and the sensation of falling sicken the hell out of me, and I can't say how much I was screaming at myself for such a bad idea. I had just enough time to drift over one of the forced-air elevator platforms… and was launched upward with a mighty gust that felt like a hurricane had decided I was its new plaything. Fear shot through me like a dagger to the heart as I quickly found out I had no control; I went from plummeting like a rock to the floor to being tossed through the air like an autumn leaf. The only solid thing I had a hold on were my guns; the emptied pistol and shotgun clenched in a grip so tight I thought I'd need a prybar to get them out.

The last thing I remembered was the air blast suddenly changing course and blasting me out into one of the balconies; I didn't know which one. I collided with the floor and everything went black.

I had never fainted or been knocked out before, and I've taken some pretty heavy hits. Falling five feet off a playground 'bridge' when I was a kid didn't do it, nor did getting beaned full-force by a socket wrench when helping a friend work on an old car of his years ago didn't do it, either. This, however, did.

The headache that came in a few moments was completely obscene; one of those where it feels like a construction worker has been taking a jackhammer to the back of your skull for the past hour. Luckily, I had brought my first-aid kit with me; while it wasn't all that equipped to deal with major issues I had plenty of Excedrin. I eased myself into a sitting position and slipped my backpack off, amazed that my shotgun was lying next to me. As I popped four of the green and white pills with a long draught of water, I tried to locate my M1911.

The pistol had landed several yards away, probably after skidding on the stone floor the entire way. I grimaced… if that was damaged, I was kinda screwed. I took a few moments to get up… my head wasn't all too happy with sudden movements, and I felt almost punchdrunk. Only the knowledge that I was still very likely in danger kept me moving on. A bit of curiosity caused me to take a look at my watch. The old Timex on my wrist indicated that it was a bit past two-thirty. I had arrived around eleven. I had been out for a while, which means I may have had a concussion. Just great.

But… why hadn't I been set on by the Sharpclaw yet? For that matter, where was everyone? I used those questions to keep my mind occupied as I collected my handgun. There were a few scratches on the frame and slide but to my relief there was no major damage. I slapped a fresh magazine into it and hit the slide release; that did a lot for my confidence. I was still alive. Hurt, but alive. I put the pistol up and reloaded my shotgun. As long as I didn't run into huge numbers of the bastards, I was okay.

I tried to keep my pounding, swimming head occupied as I started down the hallway, attempting to keep it clear as much as possible. There had to be a way out of this. A quick look over the balcony revealed I was on the lowest level of the palace; something I'd have to change. As much as I hated to think about it, the damned 'elevators' were the only way to the top.

After taking a deep breath I approached the platform once again and jumped on. Like before, I was blown upwards like a leaf caught in a hurricane, but my addled mind discovered another fact… I could 'push' against the current as if I was swimming. That information made it a hell of a lot easier to keep myself steady. I soon found out I could 'swim' between platforms, making my journey back up much less harrowing.

Within a few minutes I was back on the top level, shotgun in my hands and staring at a very grisly scene. Several Sharpclaw bodies were strewn about; some of them trampled, some gored, and some of them shot by my hand. I had seen my share of shock videos, but nothing compared to that kind of sight in real life. If I had anything left in my stomach I would have puked again; as it was I retched. I gulped some air to keep another set of dry heaves from wracking my body, and then slowly pressed on.

The upper level was almost devoid of openings. One was covered in some sort of purple force field which led to the Krazoa Shrine Krystal used in the game; the same one where she would be ambushed and captured. The other looked to be another 'air elevator' going up, most likely to the roof. I wasn't going to do any good where I was, so I stepped on.

I was starting to get used to the sickening falling sensation, but my stomach really didn't like it. I was a little worried because I always had stomach issues, and it couldn't take a lot of punishment before making my life a living hell. The last thing I needed was having debilitating stomach cramps when I needed to fight. I was on my own out here, and something like that could easily spell a quick, painful demise.

Either way it had started grumbling, and that meant that it wasn't happy. Dammit. I had a few hours at most before things started getting really difficult. I had to force my focus from my stomach as I arrived at the top of the 'airevator,' emerging into the same rainstorm that I had been in just a couple of hours before.

The timescale at home definitely didn't jive with Sauria; it was already nighttime. Krystal's part in the game started at night, just after the attack. That meant I was running out of time in more ways than one. I was on the roof of the Palace, judging by the thick, bluish-gray stone and the gantry in the middle. That gantry would be holding the vixen prisoner in that large jewel if I didn't do something, and quick.

However, my first concern was in a loud, pained bellow that carried out across the rooftop. I clenched my shotgun and eased out of the alcove the lift was in, emerging into the full, driving rainstorm.

I didn't see anything at first, but after rounding a corner I cursed and ducked behind it. No less than five smaller Sharpclaw surrounded an Earthwalker who was frantically trying to drive them away from some strange-looking machine. Two of the larger 'brute' Sharpclaw were moving in on the wounded Saurian, whose movements were becoming more and more sluggish. They brandished halberds with blades that looked like they could cleave a car in half. The Earthwalker roared in defiance, one that turned out to be its last… ending in a sickening, saddening gurgle as the brutes struck with their polearms.

I can honestly say I was scared shitless. That group of Sharpclaw took out an Earthwalker, a Triceratops-based Saurian who was nearly the size and weight of an APC. I weighed around half that of a regular Sharpclaw, and had absolutely no aptitude in hand to hand combat. I may have been fairly well armed, but something told me a shotgun might not cut it.

However, the bastards just cut down an Earthwalker, and I could hear their alien voices cheering because of it. A bolt of anger shot through me. They were getting away with it and here I was, armed to the teeth. They had spears, halberds, swords, and clubs. I had a pump-action shotgun and three handguns. I had to do _something._

I unloaded two shells out of the Remington then went fishing inside one of my belt pouches. My plan was very touch and go, but at least it was one. Most of my shells were a mixture of buckshot and birdshot; self-defense and target loads. Those brutes would need a lot of extra punch, but I had a grand total of twenty slugs in my supply. Thank God I brought a few along. I shoved them into the gun and swung back out into the open, taking careful aim.

The closest brute was about thirty yards away from me; not the easiest shot with a simple bead sight, but it was all I had. I centered it on his head and pulled the trigger. The Remington's report was louder than normal, the weapon slamming me in the shoulder like a pissed-off mule. The heavy slug worked; much to my amazement the brute's head erupted in a shower of gore and blood. I didn't have the time to get sick; I had the other bastard to take care of. As the others turned around to face me, I was already racking the second slug into the chamber.

I shot the other brute in the chest, the slug putting him down fairly quickly. The other Sharpclaw froze in place; I assumed they were either trying to keep me away from the equipment, or they weren't sure how to react to a gun-wielding threat. I worked the pump again, bringing the first buckshot into play as I aimed at the center Sharpclaw.

That was a mistake. The bastard got wise and jumped out of the way as I pulled the trigger. The mass of pellets smacked into the machine behind him, which fizzled out in a flurry of sparks and angry electrical noises. "Fuck!" I shouted, firing my last two shells into the now-charging enemy.

Two Sharpclaw fell to my assault, but the others kept coming. I had no choice other than run; they were closing in on me very quickly. I held onto the shotgun with my off hand, extracting the Taurus as I ran. I ducked behind the first corner I came across, hoping to at least buy some time to set up an ambush.

I dropped the shotgun and wheeled around, revolver in hand; hoping that the Sharpclaw were stupid enough to follow me around. My luck held out; two rounded the corner at full speed, only to be greeted by two double-taps. The .357 Magnum pills worked pretty well on them, the Sharpclaw dropping like rocks.

Stupidly, I left my six wide open. I didn't realize the third one snuck around me until I heard his heavy footfalls. My backpack was recipient to what felt like a sledgehammer smacking it full force. The only reason the blow didn't break my spine was it hit the thickest part of my backpack. I was knocked flat on my face, the Taurus flying from my grasp. My hand shot down for my M1911; I turned around just in time to see the lizard winding up for a blow that would split my head open. Pure instinct took over, lashing out with my boot and slamming it into where I thought its kneecap would be. My antagonist buckled in mid-strike, its club colliding with the stone wall next to us hard enough to crack the wood. That gave me enough time to pull my pistol out and deliver two well-placed shots to its chest, dropping it like the others.

I picked myself off the floor, both my back and head screaming bloody murder at me; a sure sign that I'd need a few visits to my doctor after all this was over. While my bruised and aching body bitched at me, I went about the task of reloading my weapons once more. I had fired a total of eight shotgun shells, two slugs, eleven rounds of .357 Magnum and ten .45 ACP. In short, I was burning through my limited ammunition. I had to be much more careful than I had been.

After a moment I stumbled over to the strange machine that an Earthwalker died trying to protect and several Sharpclaw died trying to keep from me. The device looked like a desktop computer on steroids; a touchscreen terminal attached to a chest-high box and several bristling antenna. It was most likely a communications terminal of some kind.

It probably would have worked if I hadn't accidentally peppered it with a bunch of #4 buckshot. Advanced technology like this was most definitely Cornerian in orgin, which meant I likely cut off Sauria's only contact with other planets in the star system. Loosely put, I was honestly doing more harm than good out there. I hadn't really been able to fend off the Sharpclaw attack, and with communications to Corneria cut off the chances of a distress signal being received by their military wasn't too great… meaning that Fox McCloud was probably not coming.

"Fuck." I hissed, reattaching my shotgun to my backpack. That was about all I really _could_ say about the situation. All I had really succeeded in doing was killing several Sharpclaw, wasting some ammo and getting a concussion. I was also getting a shower with as much as it was raining. I took a deep breath of cold, humid air and slumped back to the 'airevator.'

As I returned to the relatively warmer, drier confines of the palace, I glanced around the top level. Nothing had changed; that strange purple forcefield was still barring my way deeper into the structure and there were no Sharpclaw waiting to try and stick a blade in my gut. There was really no telling what I needed to do next; the most I could do was wait for Krystal to make her way here(_if_ she did) and activate the Krazoa shrine that kept that forcefield up.

I tried to make myself as comfortable as I could afford, propping my backpack against the wall like a cushion after taking out something to eat and drink. I wasn't particularly hungry, but I had to wonder if the old soldiers' tales had any merit: get it when you could, because you didn't know when you'd get it next. I had extracted a bottle of water and a can of tuna… not exactly the most pleasant meal, but it was compact and it was food. I took my time eating, noting with dismay that after I finished the forcefield was _still_ up.

Time passed like waiting in line for the DMV: full of impatience and boredom. The nagging thought that I should have brought a book was constantly at the back of my mind. I must have checked my watch a hundred times in two hours. I was effectively stuck there until something happened. I passed through states of anxiousness, boredom, and impatience; my headache refusing to go away. Needless to say I was beginning to become more agitated with every minute that passed.

I was completely unprepared when the forcefield flashed away from existence. From knowing how the game went I had mere seconds before Krystal was assaulted and tossed into the beam that led to the jewel below me; the very same jewel that was starting to rise up from the floor. A wave of nervousness washed over me as I slipped my backpack on and pulled out my .45… this was it.

I emerged into the long hallway, nearly halting in my tracks at the sight. The iconic blue vixen was kneeling in front of the shrine, spreading her arms open in order to transfer the spirit into it. A moan of pain echoed through her lips as the bluish apparition burst from her body, flowing into the shrine. As I stood there dumbstruck, a beam of purplish-pink light shot from the shrine, right over my head. I had no more time to act. My legs propelled me forward as my hands brought up my M1911, sights tracking on the space to her right; where her hidden attacker was waiting.

Krystal stood up shakily, as if she was drained from the effort of what she had just went through. She was neither aware of me nor of the strange mirage approaching her from the shadows. I was. "GET DOWN!" I shouted, pointing the handgun into the center of the shimmering mass.

To her credit she heeded my warning, hitting the deck as I pulled the trigger. Four thunderclaps echoed in the tight chamber and an even louder roar of pain followed. I probably only pissed it off, but I was too fueled with adrenaline to be frightened out of my wits.

The monstrous apparition stood still for a moment, probably considering if Krystal or I represented the greater threat. The vixen rolled away from it as I reached the branch to a short corridor off to my right. Without even thinking I reached out and grabbed her by the wrist, roughly yanking her out of harm's way and bolting down the hall as if Satan himself was giving chase. An angry bellow that felt like it would cave in the roof came from behind us… _now_ I was scared shitless. Hoping to God that Krystal would keep up I let go of her wrist, choosing to leap off of the small lift at the end of the corridor than wait for it to take me down.

I hit the floor with a jolt that nearly knocked the breath out of me and jarred my knees. They angrily protested as I immediately transitioned from hitting the ground with both feet to running like my ass was on fire, straight towards a large opening right ahead. A feminine grunt sounded right behind me; Krystal was keeping up. In all of this mess, something _was_ going right for once.

The huge chamber we entered was decorated very ornately, although the centerpiece was quite strange; a platform with what looked like a 55-gallon drum perched on top of it. I rushed past it, hoping that Krystal had enough sense to follow my lead. I whirled around, placing my M1911s sights square on the barrel and pulled the trigger.

The pistol's report was drowned out by the barrel's explosion, shortly followed by the grinding of stone on stone as the huge, heavy door the platform had been triggering fell shut. Tons and tons of granite blocked off our pursuer's path, and we could both hear the faint pounding of massive fists on stone. We were safe… for now.

I took a second and directed an incredulous gaze to the vixen that stood in front of me. Not that I would admit it to her, but she was the idol of quite a few people back home, myself tentatively included. She stood a little shorter than I was, her cerulean fur still damp from the rain outside.

The bikini top and loincloth she wore didn't hide too much of her body, but her bracers and shinguards probably gave her some sort of protection. I had to admit she was elegant, in a haunting, alien sort of way. Another thing I noticed was the fact I was panting for breath, but she didn't seem too terribly winded from our short sprint. She was in a hell of a lot better shape than I was. I wasn't sure if I should be overjoyed or cautious, but the way her emerald eyes glanced to mine it was apparent she was sizing me up in the same way.

"Who… who _are_ you?" she asked, her voice laced with fear. Her accent was British, although definitely more of the upper crust Londoner variety. It was then I noticed she was eying me suspiciously. "Why did you help me…? I could have been evil!" That line was directly from the game.

"You weren't the antagonist in that matchup, and I'm pretty sure Earthwalkers can't become invisible at the drop of a hat." I responded, hoping that it would help defuse the situation. "That, and it looks like both of us are here trying to help them out." I tried to keep my thoughts in check. If she was really telepathic, she'd figure out pretty quickly that this was all just a video game to me, and she was one of the main characters in it. Even though I was expecting her presence here, standing face-to-face with an anthropomorphic vixen was a bit… unnerving.

I really couldn't worry about it, though. She had what I assumed was a puzzled look on her features, but the puzzlement soon turned to concern as the door vibrated a little. Whatever the hell I just rescued her from wasn't taking a stone door in its path all too lightly. I was relieved at the break in conversation that particular danger provided, however. "Listen. We can make introductions later. Just know that I'm on your side here, but if we don't get the fuck out of Dodge we're going to be in a world of shit. Okay?" I pointed up the ramp I knew she had entered the room from earlier; one lined with jets of fire which sequentially turned on and shut off. "Does that lead outside?"

She nodded, but I caught a flash of something in her emerald eyes. I hoped I hadn't given her any cause for suspicion. "Your words are fairly strange, but I think I know what you're saying. We need to leave the Palace, right?" I simply nodded, already making my way towards the flames. "We need to be careful. There's dangerous beasts ahead, and I lost my staff boarding General Scales' flying ship."

"Then please stay behind me. I really don't have the time to show you how to use one of my weapons right now." I remained blunt and to the point, slapping a fresh mag into my M1911 as I reached the corridor with the flame jets. "If you spot one of them, let me know… I'll take it out."

That caused her expression to fall a bit. "Alright. I really hope Kyte is waiting for us." The vixen sighed, glancing to me as I kept watch over the timing of the flame jets for a moment. "I haven't done all that well fighting off Scales' Sharpclaw so far. I was hoping to at least be able to help them…"

"I haven't had that much luck either." I responded, taking a few steps past the first flame jet. Krystal followed, looking like a lost puppy following me. It would have been almost comical, if I hadn't been on edge and expecting anything to jump out of the walls at me. "I almost got killed several times coming here… it's a damn miracle that I'm not seriously hurt." Well, other than a splitting headache and a back in dire need of a chiropractor.

"What happened?" The vixen asked as we stepped past the next flame jet, the tone in her voice showing that her curiosity had been piqued. This caused me to glance over to her once more in puzzlement. She _had_ to be at least suspicious of me, and if her telepathic talents really were like what they were in the games, she would have known right off that she was a damned video game character where I came from; an object for fanboys to drool over. Furthermore, I wrote stories about her, for Christ's sake. She was a fictional character whose mouth I put words into. I was sure she would be pretty torqued when she heard _that _particular nugget.

"To make an incredibly long story short, I'm stranded here." That was pretty much the truth, wasn't it? "I got in contact with something called a Warpstone, who told me about a possible attack here. I agreed to help since I've got the firepower, and blundered my way through all of it." We continued to cautiously make our way past the flame jets; the conversation strangely enough making the journey between the searing hot traps a little bit more bearable. "I'm no soldier. I have no combat training for all of this. I've made some serious mistakes in the past couple of hours… shit that I'm not sure we'll be able to recover from." Yeah. I was crude, but so what? If you were stranded God knows how far from home, and the only one you could talk to was a fictional alien vixen whom you were helping to escape a possibly lethal situation… wouldn't _you_ be a little peeved, too?

'It's okay… I'm not a soldier, either." Krystal gave a sigh of relief as we finally make it up the ramp. "I feel like I let those Earthwalkers down… I didn't do enough to help them." She gave another sigh… this one I could tell was of defeat.

"We did what we could." I shot back. "Right now we're alive, and that's what counts. You don't know the whole story, and we really don't have the time to dwell on it right here." Yeah, I was probably an asshole. I cared a little bit more about survival than making Krystal feel better… but what was I going to do? Sugarcoat things? Lie and say everything was rainbows and clovers? No. If she was telepathic, she would sniff that bullshit out in no time flat.

"But I don't even know you! Where do we start this… how do we defeat Scales?" Krystal inquired… all very good questions, but a chittering sound down the next hallway caused me to stop. It was most likely one of those tentacle things I remembered from the game.

"Sssh." I hushed her, my mind instantly concentrating on the sights of my handgun. I wasn't about to let one of those bastards get the drop on us. It only took a few seconds for the thing to round the corner. In the game it looked innocuous enough, but in reality it looked like a jellyfish had reproduced with a tentacle beast in an X-rated comic book. The major difference was that those tentacles were covered in small barbs, and very likely poisonous. Not good. Not good at all.

I reacted instantly, my weapon's sights snapping up to the thing's 'braincase' and snapping off a pair of shots. I was hoping the thing would have deflated like a popped water balloon, but it didn't. A mixture of pink and blue fluids streamed from the two holes I put in the creature, but it still kept on coming. "_Fuck_!" I cursed, shocked that two .45ACP bullets had failed to stop it.

Krystal, however, had other ideas. She rushed past me, wrapping her paw around my arm in an iron grip as she tugged me along, simply bum-rushing the creature before it had time to react. I was pulled along for the ride, managing to fire off a few more shots at it as we passed. I wasn't sure if I hit it, because she kept on running. "We need to get out of the building, _now!_" Her voice was full of determination, but I could tell she was afraid of _something._ That wasn't good.

The source of her fear became apparent, as I heard a familiar roar coming from the passageway we had just erupted from. Somehow that invisible beast had broken through the stone door, and we were being chased once more. The pit of fear sunk in my own gut as I tried to keep pace with the frantic vixen.

We scrambled over a small pile of rubble to emerge outside, once again in the torrential rain which surrounded the palace. I recognized the place very well; this was where Krystal had entered the palace from in the first place, and also where she was dropped off by Kyte, the Cloudrunner. I just now understood what she was afraid of. Would her ride be here?

She practically pulled me up a set of stone steps, avoiding piles of bluish-purple goo; the remains of the same kind of creature I had pumped full of lead not ten seconds ago. We were now on the same platform that she had landed on earlier. The place was quite large; about twice the size of my house. There was enough room to maneuver, as well as columns to hide behind.

"I really hope you know what you're doing!" I shouted over the din of the storm, putting away my pistol as I did so. My hand brushed the stock of my shotgun, making sure the weapon would be ready at an instant's notice. "We don't have a lot of time before that badass catches up to us!"

"I don't see him!" Krystal snarled; a sound which surprised me. She never sounded angry in any of the games, but she was genuinely angry at what was going on. "He said he'd wait for me!" That was different from events in the game, where she told him to take off without her.

My hands slid the shotgun from its perch on my backpack, preparing myself mentally for what could have been a nearly impossible fight. I had a sudden, fervent wish that I was carrying something more powerful in the weaponry department than a 12-gauge shotgun. Sitting behind something full auto and at least 7.62mm would have been a whole lot more comforting. Of course, that wasn't going to turn my Remington into an HK G3A3; I had to deal with what I had brought to the party.

"I can't sense him!" Krystal growled. I couldn't see her as I was already aiming my weapon towards the stairs, but I could hear a mixture of anger and fear in her voice. "He's not here!"

"Who the hell are you talking about!" I shouted, trying to keep my concentration firmly fixed on the stairway. I already knew who she was talking about, but if I slipped and mentioned something I shouldn't I'd have a suspicious vixen on my hands.

"His name is Kyte! He's a Cloudrunner who is trying to work against Scales. He's the one who flew me here in the first place!" Krystal replied, her tone of voice not changing one bit. Something was happening completely out of plan to both of us; the facts that Kyte wasn't around and I hadn't been picked up by the Warpstone yet made me think something was wrong. "How did you get to the Palace? Do you have a ship?" that inquiry caused me to shake my head.

"No… it was the Warpstone; he's the one who transported me here! However, I'm not sure if he can tell if I've finished my business here or not! I don't know how to contact him!" I replied, my hands continuing their white-knuckle grip on my Remington. I felt like I was about to break my weapon in half just waiting for them.

"Maybe I can reach him!" The vixen responded, although the tone of her voice spiked with fear. "They're here! Get ready!" I could hear snarling and growling from below; a mixture of angry Sharpclaw voices. There was nowhere to go, nowhere to run. It came down to the two of us against whatever Scales had stationed here…. The odds were pretty grim.

I took a split instant to snatch my Taurus out of its holster, presenting the weapon to Krystal. I hoped it wasn't a bad tactical move, but another shooter might improve our chances; that and she was unarmed. "Just point it at the target, line up the center notch of the front sight between the back ones, and pull the trigger! You have seven shots, make them count!"

I felt her remove the .357 from my hands, and I resumed gripping onto the shotgun. "Get behind me! Pick off any that try to flank us!" She probably read my mind as she pressed her back to mine. The growling intensified and I started hearing heavy footfalls upon the stone steps.

They emerged into view like a flood. I was never a pious man, but I uttered a quick prayer; simply hoping to somehow get out alive. I didn't want to die like this. There must have been twenty Sharpclaw rushing up toward us, the shimmering, nearly-invisible profile of their unknown leader coming up from behind.

My finger tightened upon the shotgun's trigger, my aim shifting to the shimmering figure. The rain made it easy to spot him, splashing off of unseen surfaces and creating a useful mirage as an aimpoint as if he wasn't invisible. Suddenly, I felt my stomach cramping up, the queasy feeling continuing as a tingle started shooting up my entire body. I tried to concentrate on the sight of my shotgun, but it was becoming translucent.

A swirling array of colors replaced the frightening scene as the Sharpclaw closed in. I didn't even get to fire a shot.


	4. Chapter 4: Revelations

**Notes:**

** Sorry it's taken this long to get back with another update. I've been distracted with other things in my life, and the year 2010 has been one of the worst on record as far as I'm concerned. However, I'm starting to regain my touch, so here's another chapter.**

** This one was actually going to be longer, yet it was pushing too long for my tastes… so it's truncated. The next one should be arriving fairly soon as it's nearly half-written at this time. Another reason for cutting it short is for reducing confusion; this one is in Krystal's POV. There won't be a terrible amount of action, but as you will note at the end of this one there're some things that will be hitting the fan soon enough.**

Chapter 4: Revelations

I'm not really sure what happened. One moment we were on top of the Palace and the next we were in a small cove; the rainy weather of Krazoa Palace was replaced with warm night air. Either way I was frigid; my fur was soaked through with rain and the ceremonial dress I was wearing wasn't keeping any of it out.

My senses were still trying to process the danger we had been suddenly removed from, and as such my mind was picking up information that would have otherwise been hidden from me. For example, I was picking up thought patterns from the large statue in front of us, which I assumed to be the Warpstone; that and my new ally was in a moderate amount of pain.

"Fuckin' stomach…" he growled, nearly doubled over in front of me. I wasn't sure what to do. He had saved my life in the Palace and helped me escape the apparition that attacked me, but he didn't seem very thrilled to be here. There was also something deeply hidden in his thought patterns, like I was somehow familiar to him.

"Are you okay?" I knelt next to him, about to place my paw upon his shoulder; yet a sudden thought from him changed my mind. He was extremely uncomfortable with any sort of physical contact, and the wish that I wouldn't touch him was so intense that it was like it was being shouted through a horn. I really wasn't sure what to do. I didn't know where we were and I could sense the malevolent presence of Sharpclaw at the edges of my sensory range. I didn't have my staff with me, but he armed me with one of the blaster-like weapons he used. I also realized that I didn't even know his name.

"Give me a minute…" he hissed, eventually reaching a standing position. I could still tell he was in pain, especially since he staggered to a large, black pack that had been sitting a few feet away. He rifled through it for a moment, extracting a small bottle. He took a few pills from it; obviously some sort of medication.

"I don't know how to say this," I started, my abilities still focused on the presence of Sharpclaw in the area, "but we're still in danger. There are still Sharpclaw around." I was about to say more, but the statue entered the conversation. Its accent was similar to Cerinian, but not quite.

"Aye, they are… and they're wreaking some serious havoc around 'ere!" The Warpstone was a little agitated, which I could understand. We had several similar constructs on Cerinia; most of them ancient Guardians who had decided to stay on the mortal plane to help guide and teach future generations. That alone put a slight stab of pain through my heart. I hadn't seen my homeworld in nearly a full rotation, not after leaving in the ship we had recovered from the ones who killed my parents.

"When it rains, it fuckin' pours." My new ally retorted, shrugging off the large blaster-like weapon on his back. I hadn't seen it before, but he exchanged it for another similar-looking weapon. That one looked very well-aged, as if it was a weapon that had seen years of constant use and battle. I was curious to why he swapped weapons, but he had to have had a reason. "I swear to God, if they're fucking with my ride I'm going to blow their heads off." I didn't know what he meant, but along with the pain I could feel anger well up inside him; a very dangerous combination. The first thing the elder Guardians taught us was that anger was a tool, yet it was a very unstable one. I would have to watch him; I didn't want someone who was very well my only ally here getting hurt or killed.

"If you're going out like that, I'm coming with you." I spoke up, standing up and looking right into his eyes. "You're in pain, and I don't want you making any mistakes." I had nowhere to store the weapon he gave me, so I hefted it in my paw. It was heavy for its size; quite unlike the few Lylatian blasters I had seen before. I had fired one, once; Lylatian technology was extremely rare on Cerinia and as such even Guardians like me didn't have much experience with them. His weapon, however, looked like it operated completely differently. My ears were still slightly ringing from his other one's reports. "What do we have to do?"

He stood up and started on his way, handling the weapon somewhat awkwardly. He was right; he wasn't a professional soldier or Guardian, but at least he had the determination to stand up to Scales and his Sharpclaw. "We have to figure out what they're here for. If they're investigating the ones I wasted before taking my little trip up there and helping you out, then I need to make sure they don't ransack my place. If they're here for something else, we're going to be the monkey in their wrench."

His speech confused me, but I managed the gist of what he was saying. It sounded like that old idiom; 'putting the torch to the Wraith's egg clutch.' However, a quick curious check of his surface thoughts seemed to infer that he knew exactly what was going on. I would question him about that later; keeping my telepathic abilities a secret would be the best action for the moment.

He walked around the statue, which I could now tell stood in some sort of lagoon. It was surrounded with stone walls about four meters high, barring access except for a crumbled section near one of the rock walls, as if it had been caught up in a severe explosion. I caught the impression that it was my strange ally's doing.

I followed him past the blown-out hole in the wall, taking a first look at the valley which lay before us. In the starlight it looked peaceful; the meadows, trees, and creek which ran through it reminded me so much of home. There was even a large structure built into the rock walls at the end of the valley which looked like a temple; its aged stone façade looked much like the one I had trained at. I had become a Guardian to help others and to find and avenge my parents' murder. If Fortune was with me, I would fulfill both those duties on Sauria.

The valley sported one strange anomaly; something which shouldn't have been there. A dwelling of some sort stood not a hundred meters from where we were. It looked wooden and a bit aged, but it was far too small for any Saurian to comfortably live in… besides the Sharpclaw and Lightfoot. A wheeled vehicle sat out front; one which didn't look rugged enough to brave Sauria's unforgiving trails and landscape. It looked almost like a combination between a Lylatian hovercar and one of our wagons, but from its appearance it was likely self-powered. However, it didn't look like it was going to survive the aggression of the three Sharpclaw which were approaching it with clubs drawn.

"Oh, I am _NOT_ seeing this!" My strange new ally growled, and I felt his pain-fueled anger spark into outright rage. The vehicle and house likely belonged to him, but that was quite obvious by the way he raised the weapon to his shoulder. "Eat lead, you fuckin' slimy motherfuckers!"

I can't describe the weapon as anything but _loud_. I winced as it went off, my ears experiencing a brief spike of pain as he fired. However, the Sharpclaw nearest the vehicle acted as if it had been hit with a bolt of lightning; it fell to the ground stone dead.

He operated it by working some sort of mechanical lever on top of the weapon. Another surface thought came to my mind; it was actually quite old and outdated by his standards, but it seemed to be working just fine.

The Sharpclaw stopped their assault on his vehicle, noticing us and deciding that the one who killed their friend was a greater threat than an unmoving piece of machinery. However they were nearly a hundred meters away and were already being attacked.

Two excruciatingly loud blaster shots later, the Sharpclaw were bodies in the grass and we were on the way towards the vehicle he had defended. "You don't fuck with a man's ride. That's against the rules." He didn't seem to be talking to me, but I got the impression that most of what he had said in the past thirty seconds were curses. I suppressed a sigh; he may be an ally, but he was fairly crude.

"I think you killed all of them." I responded as we reached the vehicle. I didn't sense any Sharpclaw in the area, so now was the time to figure out exactly was going on. "We're safe now, but I think you should answer some questions." The fact that I was following him like an orphaned Gulmar and didn't even know his name was a little scary. He helped me out of what may very well have been my death, but even that didn't fully drive my cautiousness away.

"Alright." A sigh echoed his lips as he turned to lean upon the side of the vehicle he had just saved. "What do you want to know?" This time I started delving a little into his thoughts. It was borderline illegal on Cerinia, but I had to know if he meant to harm me. I found out that he was genuinely interested in helping me, but at the same time he was dreading my questions. He had _something_ to hide, but all I could really decipher was that he didn't want to hurt me.

I tried to defuse the situation. "My name is Krystal. I come from a planet named Cerinia, far away from here. I'm here because my ship found a faint distress call. I'm a Guardian, which means that I'm bound by duty to help anyone in need so I came here to investigate." I kept my expression as neutral as possible, but my senses were telling everything I could find out about him. What surprised me was that he was not surprised by my introduction at all; it was like he had heard of me before. I couldn't help but feel suspicious, and he felt nervous after hearing my introduction. "May I ask who you are and why you're here?"

"My name's Adam." He responded; I could detect a nervous edge in his voice when even introducing himself. "I have no idea how I'm here or why I'm here. I woke up this morning and my entire damn house was somehow here. All I know is that these Sharpclaw things tried to kill me, and I was trying to figure out where they were coming from."

He took a deep breath before continuing. That part of his story was true; his confusion at being here was showing through even more than his nervousness. "I happened upon that Warpstone, who mentioned something about some sort of attack. I figured it was my best chance of figuring out where I was and why I'm here. All I can tell is that this isn't my planet. I don't belong here, and I have no damn clue… I _just don't know_." His words expressed frustration and anger, which I tried to interpret.

I stood there for a moment, simply digesting his words and motives. Other than the nervousness and mental block he was being sincere. Yet, that nervousness and hesitation fueled my own hesitation as well. What secrets did his mind hold? Would they put me in danger? A Guardian had to trust those they helped, but would blind trust be the wisest decision I could make?

That was a risk I would have to take. He wasn't hostile, nor could I detect any sort of malice toward me whatsoever. In fact, the opposite seemed to be true; the faint sense of awe came from him. It was somewhat strange, but I could trust him at least to some extent. "So… your house simply appeared here overnight? You fell asleep and it was here when you woke up? That seems rather peculiar, Adam."

"Yeah, that's what I asked myself, too. I'm at a complete loss as to how it happened." I sensed the realization he had before he voiced it; a sudden stab of emotional pain so intense his mental blocks couldn't hide it. "Jesus Christ. I've lost everyone and nearly everything I've known. Family, friends… everyone." Anger soon welled up, which I didn't have to use my telepathy to detect; his voice wore it like a tunic. "I'm going to find the sick motherfucker who did this, and…"

"Calm yourself." I interrupted. "I know you're hurting, but these are problems best taken on by your mind and not your weapon." I hesitated a moment, painful memories of my own threatening to overcome me. "I've lost nearly everyone I cared for and loved, too… I know your pain well." I hung my head down, but only for a moment; I had to keep strong. There was no alternative.

A sigh echoed from him. "Look. I'm not fishing for sympathy here. But, believe me… I'm going to unravel this mystery, find out who's responsible for all this bullshit, and get my ass back home where I belong." He paused for a moment, giving me a curious look. "I'm sorry if I'm being an ass about this, but I've got a lot on my mind."

"I can tell." I responded, which garnered a reaction far beyond what those simple words actually meant. He recoiled ever so slightly, and the fact his face flushed bright red was a dead giveaway. I would have bet all the silver in my father's vault that he somehow knew I had telepathic abilities. Yet, how? I didn't detect any telepathic or empathic abilities; latent or otherwise. His mental blocks were strong, but I could tell that they weren't augmented.

"Are you okay?" I asked again, concerned yet intrigued at the same time. He was a strange one, even taking into account he was likely an alien. He didn't look like any Lylatian species I had heard of, except for possibly the Simian race. Yet his characteristics were completely different; the lack of fur except for a coarse patch on his head was unheard of. He spoke flawless Lylatian, and his mental quirks seemed to demonstrate he had some knowledge of the universe outside Sauria.

"Yeah. It's just been a long day." He responded. "Listen, before we get started I'm going to head inside. I want to change out of this combat gear and get into something a little less cumbersome, okay?" He paused for a moment, regarding my form for a moment. Something flashed before my eyes, a mental image so quick that I didn't get a good read on it before it was gone. "Also, I think you might appreciate a change of clothes, Krystal."

I could sense that my manner of dress was somehow uncomfortable to him. It was more ceremonial armor than anything, but it was pretty much all I had. Yet if something simple as some clothing would ease his mind, I was willing to make a change. I offered a nod and followed him, curious as well as a little bit apprehensive at what I'd find in the alien dwelling.

"The Warpstone told me that there's a lot of areas where the weather's complete shit. I've got some extra clothes in these drawers; you're welcome to take anything you like." Adam pointed his flashlight at the set of wooden drawers in his room. I cast a critical eye to him; we were fairly similar in size, taking into consideration I was a Cerinian vixen and he was a male human. He had changed out of the multi-colored clothing he had worn earlier; replacing what I sensed was military garb with a pair of durable, light-blue pants, a green shirt, and a brown jacket made out of some sort of leather. "I'm going to see what I can salvage from the cellar; give you some privacy as well." He gave me a nod then walked out of the room, shutting the door behind him. I allowed a moment for my eyes to adjust to the lack of light. The fact his night vision was quite poor was also something I'd have to take into account; I could see fairly well in the dark confines of his house.

I could tell my ceremonial dress made him a bit nervous. I wouldn't normally change into something bulky and constricting, but he had a point. The rain at the Krazoa Palace was freezing; I still felt cold from it all. Plus, more clothing gave me a chance to store the 'revolver' he had given me.

Rooting through his clothing proved to be a simple affair; I recovered a suitable outfit within minutes. I pulled off my armor and loincloth and settled into a pair of the same light-blue pants he had opted for and a black shirt of some sort; a strange, eye-shaped graphic and the legend 'Alice in Chains' was emblazoned upon it. It was quite comfortable, however. I placed my armor back on; the spaulders, bracers, and greaves fitting neatly and snugly over my new clothes. Now more appropriately dressed, I decided to investigate the house.

What surprised me the most was how dark and silent it was. The place felt dead, almost; as if it had an actual viable spirit that had left whenever it was brought over to Sauria. I wasn't qualified to tell how advanced Adam's society was just by looking at all the dead devices littering the house. I was, however, convinced that it was significantly more advanced than Cerinia, but significantly less advanced when viewed by Lylatian standards.

One of the devices looked like a handheld computer. While the house had no power going to it, the device still possibly had battery power; at least that's what the few classes I had taken on Lylatian technology told me. I flipped it open, noting it had very few buttons; it was likely operated by touch. A stylized logo was emblazoned on it: 'Nintendo DS.' That was a strange name for a computer, but I wasn't one to judge. I pressed a button labeled 'Power' and the screen lit up. I grinned; perhaps I could gain some insight on his world.

After something about an 'ESRB notice' flashed up on the screen, I realized that it had loaded some sort of entertainment program. One of the screens proclaimed something about "StarFox Command," which sounded a bit familiar to me but I couldn't place it. The bottom panel flashed a message: "Touch to Start." It was operated by touch, which meant they had comparable technology to the Lylatian planets in at least a few areas. I pressed it.

The screen flashed again. The bottom one had some sort of game menu from what I could tell. The upper one attracted my attention, and not in a good way. Artwork of four figures standing in heroic poses filled my vision, and I gasped. They were _Lylatian_.

A blue avian stood to the far left, his arms crossed and an aloof expression on his features. He was wearing a standard flight communicator helmet, like the one I had in my ship. Something strange was going on. Something _very_ strange was going on.

The figure next to him was a male fox; an attractive one at that. He wore about the same sort of gear, and he wore a determined expression. They _had_ to be Lylatian pilots of some sort. However, my breath caught in my throat and I choked up as I saw the third figure.

I could instantly tell she was Cerinian. She was about my height, about my build, and wearing a pink flightsuit. A diadem with a sea-green gem adorned her forehead, and if I squinted I could see emerald eyes staring back at me… no. Was she… _me?_ There had to be some kind of explanation for this. For all intents and purposes, Adam was an alien from a world neither Cerinia nor Lylat ever had contact with. Why in the Void would he possess an entertainment program featuring… _me?_

The menu beckoned me, and I pressed the 'Single Player' option. Perhaps it told some sort of story; perhaps it would be a clue to the identity of the Cerinian character that looked just like me. It took a few minutes of backing out of options, as I didn't want him to find out I had been using his device without permission. I finally happened upon the gallery section, and started the story.

I knew the story it told, yet only in passing. As it described the rise and fall of the Venom Empire, a pit of fear grew in my stomach. Should I even be reading this? An alien's entertainment program was describing the recent history of the Lylat War to me. This was impossible.

I now could put names to the faces of the figures on the main screen, except for the Cerinian who looked like me. I had heard about them, the famed Star Fox mercenary team who killed Andross Oikonny and ended the Lylat War.

Transfixed, I continued to read. Yet, something was _seriously_ wrong. It started going into events which hadn't happened. Venom being home to a race called the Anglars, who rose up and attacked the rest of the Lylat System with brutal precision. What could such a force do to Cerinia? Yet the story started focusing on the personal life of Fox McCloud, the leader of the Star Fox team. In the story he was travelling alone, which surprised me. Falco Lombardi had left, and so had Peppy Hare, one to lead the Cornerian military, one to chase new thrills. Typical. Slippy Toad apparently had a fiancé in this strange new revelation of this system's history.

I read about Star Wolf, the criminally-minded rivals to Fox's team. I pressed the next arrow icon with passing interest, and stopped. For a solid minute I didn't move. I was stunned beyond words, and my jaw fell open. The Cerinian in the pink flight suit, the one who I thought looked like me… _was me._

This could not be happening. This… game detailed _my_ personal life! I was Fox McCloud's _lover?_ How? Why? When? How was I supposed to feel, seeing my future right in front of me in plain text and illustration, as if my life were some sort of fictional tale for an alien's entertainment? I wasn't sure whether to cry or scream. My only impulse, like a traveler stopping to look at a burned-out forest, was to look more closely; to read on.

I started trembling. Fox would betray me. He would bar me from flying. He would have me sacrifice working with him as a pair of lifemates should, all because he was worried about my safety? I didn't know what to think. Was this real? Was this my fate? I needed answers. Now. The device still firmly grasped in my paw, I stalked off to find him.


	5. Chapter 5: The Butterfly Effect

**Notes: This was fairly quickly done, at least by my standards. 12 pages and 7,750 words makes this a good chunk of the story. There's more to come later, and I'm going to be dropping this back down to T to put it in the 'normal' 'fic rotation. I've been getting generally positive reviews and I'm having fun with this, so why not?**

**If there's anything you'd like to see happen, just shoot me a line. I've got a general plot sketched out but I can always use ideas. **

Chapter 5: Butterfly Effect.

I wandered into the cellar, thankful that I had grabbed my flashlight. With the power not working and nightfall having arrived it would be a nightmare to navigate. I flicked it on to stare down into the packed, unfinished storage area that comprised the house's basement.

What I found instead was pure chaos. It was as if a bomb went off under my house and left a crater where most of the concrete floor had been. I was picking through rubble and boxes of junk I had stored from my previous house, when my flashlight hit something I didn't think I'd find down here.

My uncle was supposed to move his gun safe to his fiancé's house a couple of weeks ago. He had even said he would have been by last Saturday to do so; a day I was out with friends. I hadn't had the occasion to be in the basement until now. That meant the majority of _his_ firearms were here, as well as mine. He was also looking after a coworker's guns as well, since he was undergoing a nasty divorce and didn't want his psychotic wife selling them or shooting him with them. After going through a similar ordeal a few months ago, I couldn't say I blamed him.

However, the safe could have held several full-auto assault rifles and thousands of rounds of ammunition for all it would do me. I stepped around the crater and tested the handle. Locked. I didn't know the combination, and it wasn't like I could call my uncle up and ask him what it was. Shit.

With a sigh I turned my attention to the crater. Something told me I was looking at what had somehow placed me smack dab into the middle of _StarFox Adventures._ Hell, I even had Krystal changing upstairs, and I wondered if in the slim chance I got back to Earth anyone would believe any of this. I'm pretty sure some depraved person would believe me and think I tried to get into her pants or something. Yeah, right. I was still debating if this was all a figment of my imagination or not.

I shined my flashlight down into the crater and caught a glimpse of metal in the bottom of it. Gingerly I lowered myself down into the hole, perhaps four feet or so. I reached down and tugged at the piece of metal, surprised to find a good-sized lockbox entangled in a tree root. It took me extracting my Swiss Army knife and sawing away several chunks of tree root, but I got the crushed, dented lockbox free. I'd take it back up a little later and look at it in the daylight, but for now I needed to hunt for any supplies I could find down here to help us.

Even though my uncle had officially moved out a few months before, a good chunk of his stuff was still there; the product of moving into a place with a smaller basement. If I could be labeled a gun nut he was an entire Planters factory; he was involved in several different types of hunting and sport shooting. I had sat down here countless times, watching him reload his own ammunition.

Wandering into the small back room that held my uncle's workshop and reloading tools, I was relieved to find that he hadn't taken most of it. However, the majority of his stuff was .223 Remington and 6mm. If I could get a hold of an M16 I'd have more usable ammo than I could shake a stick at; he had at least two thousand rounds loaded in ammo tins and coffee cans for varmint hunting purposes. His coworker's ammo was stored back there; seven-hundred 7.62x39mm rounds for an AK, five-hundred 9x19mm, and a few boxes of 7mm Magnum. I had hit the mother lode back there, but the problem was that I couldn't use _any_ of it. None of my weapons fired the stuff.

The back of the room held some success, though. I found an entire duffel bag full of shotgun shells and another loaded with various tactical equipment; probably the coworker's by the looks of it. John was one of those survivalist types; a little nutty but he was prepared for just about anything. I also collected a few boxes of .38 rounds from some shelves in the back; that would fuel the Taurus I gave Krystal. Besides some .22, I couldn't find anything else I could use.

There was no way I was getting into that gun safe, either. Attempting to shoot the lock off would just trip a safety mechanism and lock me out anyway. It was too tough to hammer through, also; I doubted Krystal's staff could put a dent in it. I knew that safe held John's AK clone, a couple of handguns, several shotguns and a few custom hunting rifles that could look at a military sniper rifle and laugh, but there was no way of getting to them. However, it was a safe bet that between that safe and the two sturdy, locked metal fire doors that led into the basement in the first place, the Sharpclaw weren't about to get them either.

I glanced through the things I had sitting down here as well, even though I didn't have any firearms or ammo down here. After digging through a side room that held boxes of my old stuff from years ago, I saw something propped against the wall: an old sword I had purchased at a garage sale years ago. I doubted it would do me much good, but I grabbed it anyway. Loaded down with the duffel bags, lockbox, and sword, I started to make my way up.

I stopped when I saw her silhouette framed in the doorway. Once again I had to admit; take away the anthropomorphic attributes and by our standards she had a pretty attractive body. However I saw at once what she was holding in her left paw… my DS. My mind raced; what had I played last? Oh, _fuck._

"You and I need to talk." Krystal's voice was all business as I hauled my findings outside, locking the doors as I went. She had dressed in a set of my jeans and one of my AIC concert T-shirts, making the image even more surreal. "You need to explain _this_ to me, and you need to explain it _well_." Her tone of voice was somewhere between angry and righteously pissed, and I was pretty sure I knew why.

"You fired that game up, didn't you?" Her nod spurred me on. "I guess you have a lot of questions, and I'm not even sure how to answer them." I took a deep breath and moved to the steps leading up to the house, taking a seat upon them. I motioned for her to sit as well, which she surprised me by doing so. I glanced into her eyes, noticing the tears she was trying to hold back.

"Am I just… this, where you come from? A fictional character? One who gets stepped on and stabbed in the back?" She shoved the DS in my face, its screen stuck on a scene in _Command's_ prologue: the one where she had tears in her eyes, turning away from Fox. The tears falling from her emerald eyes and soaking into her fur mirrored the game's art with uncanny accuracy; it was like looking into a sad reflection.

I couldn't tell anything except the truth. "Yes. Where I come from, this is all a game. I don't know why I'm here. Until this morning, all of this was computer code and a story cooked up by some Japanese game developer." I took a deep breath, echoing my frustration out to her. "Until then, I would fire up this game and use Fox to beat Sharpclaw up with your staff. Now they're out to bash my head in, and instead of beating them in a damned game I'm pumping them full of buckshot."

"What does all of this even mean?" She inquired, lowering her head and looking away. "Finding out that you're some character in a game; that your life's story has already been written by someone else?" Her voice started soft and pained, but as she spoke her anger grew into a full-on growl. It was frightening. "This planet, no, this entire _system_ has been through full-scale war! Millions have died here; even _I_ know that! And your race treats it like _entertainment?_ What sort of sick, depraved creatures _are_ you!" By the end of it she was just about in my face, her features filled with anger.

I went on the offensive. "Well, excuse _me_ for thinking this was a damned piece of fiction rather than someone's reality! It's not like my species hasn't been through similar atrocities, either!" Seeing her emerald eyes still boring into mine gave me cause to continue, if at least to set the record straight. "None of us had any fucking clue that this was _really_ going on; it was all a game's storyline! Maybe if the designers of said game had an idea that this is actually real and they're profiting from it, yes it is wrong… but don't blame me for that as I didn't know it was real until I almost had my head hacked off this morning!"

The vixen sighed at me, the fact she was quite exasperated apparent on her features. "Then if this is really a game… what was going to happen to me?" Her inquiry cut like a knife. "What else is going to happen to me, other than being betrayed by a famous space merc? You owe me at least that." Despite being angry and the tears still streaming down her face, she still faced me. She had guts; very likely a better serving of them than I did, at any rate.

But, could I really tell her? I had to explain _that,_ first. "Before I begin, there's something I need to explain. There's a movie—an entertainment program of sorts—that explains this quite well." The vixen blinked tears from her eyes and looked up at me, expectantly.

"In the movie, the main character finds out he can go back to several points in his past; points at which he could potentially change the future. However, changing it has drastic effects. With one choice he inadvertently kills the one he loves; in another he is severely maimed and his life is ruined. His attempts at making things better always comes with a hidden cost; one which is usually worse than how things were supposed to be." I paused for a moment to let that sink in. "My knowledge of future events in the Lylat System is potentially dangerous. My presence here is already changing things around, and not for the better. I just don't know how much, yet."

"How are you changing things?" She paused for a moment, her expression changing as she thought it through. I really didn't know if that was a shocked look or if she was completely furious, but she put two and two together pretty quickly. "You rescued me from the beast in the Palace! I was supposed to be captured by it, and you rescued me. But… why? If that changes things drastically, why did you?"

It was my turn to sigh. "Because I need your help, Krystal. I've played this game a few times before. I know what to do and where to go to do it. But, I'm just one person. I'm not a trained, experienced mercenary like Fox. I don't have your experience, either. I work at a damn gift shop, for Christ's sake. I just happen to keep a weapon for self-defense and others for going out with my friends for some target practice. That's it. I don't know the language here and I can't blunder my way through it, either."

"Alright." She sighed, casting her gaze to the stars before returning it back to me. It was quite strange, actually; her expressions and mannerisms were human, even though she very obviously wasn't. "I'm a Guardian and I'm bound by duty to help you, especially since you are attempting to help the Saurians overthrow their tyrant." She paused for a moment, locking her eyes with mine. "I have one condition, however: I want you to tell me what you know about me."

I closed my eyes. She was a telepath and could find out the entire story anyway. I really didn't want to tip my hand on this too quickly, but if she was willing to help then I could at least tell her the truth. "Okay. Make yourself comfortable, then. This may take a while." Krystal nodded, and I started her tale. "In the games, not much is known about you before about up to the point we met. You're from a planet called Cerinia, you're a telepath, and you're searching for whoever killed your parents. Speculation is that your entire planet was destroyed, but you'd obviously know better than me if _that_ happened."

The mention of that caused her to look down, shaking her head as she did so. "No… Cerinia isn't destroyed. I may be a Guardian, but my parents were high-ranking nobility in my society..." she paused for a moment and looked up at me. "I was what your kind would have called a princess, though I rejected the title and trappings. It was what saved my life."

My unspoken question didn't go unanswered, which made me aware of the fact she wasn't holding back her telepathic abilities, either. "My own story would take a while, too… and it's filled with pain. All you really need to know is that I'm chasing those responsible for attacking my home and killing my parents."

"Alright." I responded. It didn't take her abilities to understand that she _really_ didn't want to talk about it. "My presence at the palace changed two things. One of them was you." I paused for a moment, trying to dredge up the complete story from the back of my mind. "That thing would have thrown you into the path of that beam, where you would have been imprisoned in that massive jewel."

Krystal shuddered as she heard that news. "So… I would have been trapped in there? There's not much space for air; I could have suffocated within hours, or starved to death. T… thank you for saving me from that fate." The anger and edge behind her voice softened considerably.

"That Krazoa spirit you released kept you alive. Meanwhile, an Earthwalker managed to fire off a distress signal that reached Corneria. Upon hearing it, the leader of the Cornerian military, General Pepper, decides to hire the Star Fox team, consisting of Fox, Slippy, and Peppy."

"Ordered not to use blasters, Fox soon finds the staff you dropped on your way to the Palace. Using it, he ends up recovering the Spellstones which kept this planet together as well as collecting the Krazoa spirits. He discovers your plight and he frees you. After the final battle to free Sauria, he invites you to come with them and join the Star Fox team."

"Wait." Krystal interrupted. "You said you changed two things. What was the second?"

"I came across a group of Sharpclaw who killed an Earthwalker near some Lylatian equipment. I think the fact that they were up against an unknown with some firepower spooked them and they were trying to lay an ambush. Either way, that Earthwalker got caught in the middle. I had the element of surprise so I decided to attack; in the process I missed one and hit the equipment with a shotgun blast."

"The equipment was likely the communications gear." Krystal finished. "That means we're on our own, here. Star Fox isn't coming. We may be the only ones able to stop General Scales and save the lives of all these Saurians."

"Exactly." I glanced up to the night sky. It was late, but I blamed the interstellar equivalent of jet lag as my body was telling me it was late in the afternoon. I hadn't been here long enough to tell if Sauria had extremely short days; in the game an entire day/night cycle lasted perhaps half an hour or so. "That pretty much covers what was supposed to happen to you in the next several days."

"So you know what's supposed to happen next, right?" Krystal inquired, looking to the myriad of equipment I had brought up from the basement. "What did you find down there? Anything that can help us?"

"It was kind of a crap shoot." I gestured to the pile. "There's a few more weapons down there, but they're locked in a safe and I can't get to them. I found a bag of what might be gear and some extra ammunition, but precious little else." I bent over and picked up the lockbox, hefting it in my hands. "And then there's this. It was apparently buried beneath my house, but was laying at the bottom of a crater that was somehow created down there."

"You think what's inside brought you here." Her statement carried an air of finality to it, but her next took the cake. "I'm sensing something from it, but it's very faint. This is either a very powerful artifact that has already been used, or one which was pretty weak to begin with. She held her paws out to me, gesturing for the box. "May I?"

I shrugged and passed the box over to her. The padlock was already mostly rusted away; it took her only a stiff tug to break it off. Her gasp of surprise as she opened it caused me to startle; she apparently recognized what was within.

The object was once some sort of globe, made of clay and decorated with intricate runes and other symbols. It looked like it was a set piece from some sort of New Age television show, had the crushing action from years of assault from tree roots not crushed the box enough to break it into several large chunks. A folded, tattered piece of paper also lay within, but Krystal's incredulous expression and gasp of shock tore me away from examining the note.

"The markings! This is Cerinian!" The vixen picked up a few of the chunks and gave them further scrutiny. The brownish-tan shards revealed much more to her gaze than it did mine, although her accusation that it was from her homeworld was puzzling. "The language is quite archaic, but it seems to be some sort of transportation object."

"Meaning what?" I replied, starting to unfold the paper. It was brittle and yellowed with countless years of age. The script upon it was in English, yet the very tight, delicate handwriting wasn't a style which was used very often these days. John's new girlfriend was a major enthusiast of Victorian clothing and practices; her handwriting was _very_ similar to what I was seeing. "The sixty-four thousand dollar question right now is how a Cerinian artifact managed to get buried under my house, wouldn't you agree?"

The vixen nodded, casting a puzzled gaze to the note in my hands. "There is much I don't know about our history, Adam. This looks to be the work of some sort of spiritual sect, perhaps an offshoot which was labeled as heretical and banned by the High Priests as well as the Guardians. The fact that this object was on your world suggests Cerinians either visited or sent these objects to other worlds. Something like this would have been removed and buried very deeply." Her emerald eyes meant mine, a worried expression taking place on her features. "You have to understand. This kind of knowledge is extremely dangerous. If someone discovered the knowledge to jump from world to world it could cost us dearly. We would have destroyed every trace of this knowledge, by force if necessary."

That was a sobering thought. It was highly unlikely anyone on Cerinia, including Krystal, had any clue how to send me back home. To say that wasn't a good sign would be an understatement. "Yet if this is a Cerinian artifact, why was I sent here rather than there? Unless they were set to put whoever used them on Sauria for some reason?"

"It could have been a safety measure. They may have maintained a presence here..." Krystal looked thoughtful for a moment, her tail twitching as her voice trailed off. "I would think the Krazoa might have the answer to those questions, and the next time we come across one I'll need to ask them some things."

"Sounds good, but this letter might shed some light on this mystery." I pulled the aging piece of paper apart as best I could without breaking it apart; I barely managed. Yet as I began to read, a chill shot up and down my spine.

* * *

_ I write this to be buried with this infernal thing, this object which has caused me no end of confusion, embarrassment, and heartache over the past three months. I have ordered a few trusted men of quality to hide it; the plot of land which it will lay will be near my residence. It shall be far enough away from me to stop the nightmares and voices, but it will be close enough where it can be looked after. Such an object should not be uncovered for fear of endangering the public welfare._

_ This letter is to beseech whomever should dig this from the earth to leave it be. If that is not possible, please return it to Professor Martin Kennings at the college just up the road. If you do not, I cannot be held responsible for the madness which this object may bring. If you are not so inclined, let my story be a warning._

_ I came across this object in one of the Utah copper mines where I made my fortune. It was in a natural offshoot which turned out to be a cave system blocked by years of rubble. Thinking it to be an Indian artifact of some sort, I kept it for a museum I am planning to open in some years' time. This globe was inscribed with writing the likes of which I had never seen. I planned on discussing it with the aforementioned Professor Kennings to determine which tribe could have recovered it, or if perhaps it was an artifact brought here by the Spanish so long ago. Yet, as I studied it further I started hearing whispers; distinct voices in an indecipherable language. Intrigued, I attempted to study it further but much to my dismay the whispering worsened. The visions came perhaps a week later, nightmarish ones. I will try my best to describe them on paper, but I will admit the story is quite fantastic._

_ Imagine, if you will, a battle played out among the very stars; the vessels more majestic than even the most modern steamer in the Navy. They were ships of the air, yet not the fragile things written about in the papers back East. They exchanged volleys not of cannon fire but of pure light; the beams of light being weapons of immense force and power. Two powerful navies saw fit to battle amongst the stars. I have no insight on what the battle was for._

_ One would assume this may be a window into the future for our lot, but those behind the controls of these majestic ships of the stars were not man, they were animal. These animals walked like us, spoke like us, and fought like us; common dogs, cats, frogs, apes, and foxes fighting in these impossible craft. I cannot speculate on what this means, if this is a glimpse of the future or if this object's madness is manifesting itself in my thoughts._

_ What I do know is that Professor Keating couldn't translate the inscriptions upon it; he couldn't even wager a guess as to what language it was written in. If a man educated in language at the best halls of learning in Europe as well as Harvard and Yale cannot translate this, then perhaps nobody can. He made mention of one other possible artifact of this nature, somewhere in Russia. However, the prospect of travelling halfway across the world to chase a possibility is not to my taste. Here this object shall remain, if I have a say in it._

_ This madness nearly cost me my respect, my standing in the community which I have adopted as my own, as well as the attentions of my dear Julie. If this is found, beware this object as its visions will certainly drive your life to ruin as it has nearly mine. This is neither a lie nor is it a buried treasure of mine; this is a dangerous object! Please respect my wishes on this; you will be rewarded if you seek money, but __**leave this object alone!**_

_-S. Penrose_

_September 17, 1904_

_

* * *

_

As I reached the end of the note, my hands trembled. I recognized the name as one of the founders of the city I lived in. He found this just sitting in a cavern his miners had broken into, and somehow gave him visions of happenings in Lylat. And, apparently, he buried it deep under land which would later hold my house. What a lucky fucking break, huh? With a sigh I folded the note back up as neatly as I could and tucked it into my wallet. Krystal sensed my change in mood and placed a paw upon my shoulder. "What's wrong?"

I shrugged her paw off and stood up. "Y'know… I'm fucked. I'm truly proper fucked here. I'm stuck in this God-forsaken hellhole, surrounded by lizardmen just itching to bash my head in. My only ally is an anthropomorphic vixen who I thought was just a video game character not even twelve hours ago. So, to answer your question? Nothing's wrong! I'm just all rainbows and butterflies here!" With a flourish I snatched up the bags and my sword then marched back into the house.

I really didn't know what to say. I was stuck here, for better or for worse. I really couldn't see how it would be any better. I just wanted for me to wake up to my alarm and get ready for work, but that wasn't going to happen. What really pissed me off was that I was _right_ about these things. I was fucking up the events of the Lylatian timeline just by being here, and I was fucking up my own damn life while doing so.

But, who was to blame? Spencer Penrose for burying the fucking thing under my house? Some unnamed ancient Cerinian who decided to leave their calling card in some hole in Utah God knows how many years ago? Or was it me, who decided to change shit around at a chance for survival? I honestly didn't know, but I surely gave a fuck.

I dropped the bags inside my darkened living room, picked up my rifle, and stormed out of the house. I was pissed off worse than I had ever been pissed off before. I was ready to murder someone. So many things stood in the way of me getting home, and I viewed Scales and his Sharpclaw as target number one.

"Wait!" Krystal's voice shot out from behind me. "What are you doing?" I continued out of the house, drawing back the Enfield's bolt to ensure there was a round in the chamber. I could hear her footsteps as she followed after me.

"I'm going to start making things right around here." I growled, hefting the old bolt-action in my hands. I was going to war, with Krystal or without her. "You might want to keep following me, because I have a present for you." I changed course for the copse of trees off to my right; her staff would be there. She would know how to use it much better than I would.

"What do you mean by a present? Unless you know whe…" She trailed off as I stopped next to the golden rod which jutted out of the ground like a Cerinian version of Excalibur. The staff glittered in the moonlight like a jewel from the earth, just waiting to be retrieved and used. "You… knew it would be here?" Her tone of voice was excited yet laced with disbelief; disbelief which soon faded as she pulled her weapon from its resting place. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything." I replied, casting my eyes over to the temple-like structure ahead of us. Two torches stood to illuminate it; twin spots of light standing against the darkness. Shadowy figures lay ahead: Sharpclaw milling around. Their actions puzzled the hell out of me. They knew we were here, yet they remained content to guard the temple? The Earthwalker Queen was there, yet she was weakened and not much of a threat. Krystal was a threat due to her telepathy and hand to hand combat skills. I was a threat due to my firearms and knowledge of the game. Yet there they were, oblivious to our approach.

Krystal's paw once again found my shoulder and her voice whispered into my ear. "Wait." Her demeanor had changed like she had flipped a hidden switch; she went from confused and concerned to cold and businesslike. "We need a plan to deal with them."

"I already have a plan." I whispered back, tightening my grip on my rifle. "We're about fifty yards back and in decent concealment. I'm just going to treat this damn place like my personal shooting gallery and pick them off like flies. That stone fence around the temple will keep them from flanking us while I blow their damn guts out."

"That's what they're hoping you'll do." Krystal shot back, pointing into the inky darkness off to our right. "There's several more of them hiding in the shadows, behind that wall. They're waiting for us. If you start shooting we'll be flanked by ten of them."

"Then what do you propose we do about them? With numbers like that I'm surprised they didn't bum-rush us while we were dicking around at my place." I tucked the Enfield's stock against my shoulder as my imagination went slightly wild; I thought I saw shapes amongst the shadows ahead.

"They are afraid there's more than just us, and they're fearful of an opponent who can kill them before they can close in." The vixen's hushed voice carried experience behind it; she was decidedly _not_ the naïve Cerinian Fox encountered in the game. I noticed that even back at the Palace; her demeanor was much calmer and more professional than I thought she would have been. She wasn't the scared vixen I wrote about or the clueless one in the games. She was confident and determined. She also had a much better grasp of her telepathic abilities than I thought. "I understand your anger and pain, but you and I must overcome it and work together if we're going to survive here."

"What do you mean?" I shot back, trying to make out details in the dark, but there were precious little to spot. The Sharpclaw were either adept at hiding or my night vision was completely shit. I suspected the latter.

I could feel her pull a little closer as she kept her voice down; I could feel her warm breath tickling my cheek as she spoke. "You're angry at having to be here, Adam. You feel lost, overwhelmed, and hold little hope of finding your way home. I can't guarantee you will, but if we work together I will do my best to keep you safe."

I let out a sigh. She had a point, but I was worked up enough to open up on the bastards, regardless. They may not have been the reason why I was here, but they were in my way. Well, _our_ way from how she was talking. Even with my knowledge of the game as well as my firepower, I wasn't exactly breezing through things. The Shapclaw were formidable opponents, they might have been a bit on the stupid side but they had numbers and physical strength. I rescued Krystal from whatever tried to capture her; I would be stupid to refuse her help now. "Alright, you win." I grumbled. "What do we need to do?"

"We need to come up with a plan." Krystal paused for a moment, but I wasn't about to turn my attention from the waiting Sharpclaw to see what she was doing. "How far will your weapon reach?"

"I'm confident that I can nail one of them at two hundred yards with iron sights during the day, possibly three if you don't mind a couple of misses." I replied, keeping a close watch on them. "In this darkness, I don't feel too good about hitting them consistently past a hundred, and they better be well-lit. Are you thinking about moving back and popping them from a distance?"

"That might be an option, but they're guarding someone important. I can't tell who they're guarding; they might be shielded by something." I could tell a tinge of frustration crept into her Estuary accent. "They're expecting us and have orders to kill their prisoner if we attack. We need to divide their attentions, but how?"

I offered a half-baked idea to her ears. "We need to distract them enough so that they pull away from the temple. They're guarding the Earthwalker Queen; they kidnapped her son and we're going to have to rescue him after this little spat." I took my right hand off of my rifle and pointed to the ground. "I'm thinking that if we set a fire here, they'll poke out to investigate. We can then sneak between them and the queen and keep them from harming her?"

"There's bound to be a few that will remain behind. Are you willing to follow my lead?" The vixen tugged on my shoulder, motioning me to follow. I turned around to watch her lithe frame retreat into the darkness. I crept behind her as best I could, hoping like Hell I didn't make enough noise to draw the Sharpclaws' attention.

We made our way from the copse and across the creek. In the darkness I could just make out where we were headed; an ancient, crumbling building which once housed a massive well which fed Thorntail Hollow. The new location gave us another view of the temple the Sharpclaw were guarding; one which gave me a much clearer line of fire.

"I need you to stick right next to me, Adam. When we reach the stone fence, let me come in first; I can keep the ones in the courtyard occupied." As she spoke, her paw pointed out the Sharpclaw soldiers milling about in the courtyard. "The others will have a hard time getting over the fence. When you are able to, start shooting them." I started to turn towards the reptilian enemies, but Krystal stopped me by wrapping her paw around my arm. In the darkness her eyes locked onto mine, her voice remaining serious but laced with concern. "Are you sure you are ready for this? Our lives are in each others' paws; if I get overwhelmed I'll need you to rush in and help me."

I took a deep breath and nodded, my hands gripping my rifle tightly. "I'm as ready as I'm going to be, Krystal. I'm just praying I don't screw this up." All those tales I heard about going into battle were going through my mind; the ones where I had been told by family, friends, and strangers alike that if you weren't scared, you were a fool. I _was_ scared, just like before. Yet there was no other way around it, we were going to war. "Let's just do it and be done."

"It'll be okay, don't worry." The more experienced vixen slowly moved forward, sliding into the creek and across with a fluidity of movement evocative of martial arts films. I tried to mimic her actions but couldn't; compared to her silent motions I was nearly like a bull in a china shop. I guess I did well enough that my sloshing around didn't alert any of the Sharpclaw.

By the time I had finished fording the creek Krystal had reached the stone fence. I slid into position behind her, taking the safety off my Enfield as I did so. The Cerinian reached out and placed her paw back on my shoulder, offering a reassuring smile. Even then I could tell she was ready; her entire body radiated energy as if she was a wound-up spring looking to be released.

She leaped into action, and I mean that quite literally. She launched herself into the air and came down next to the group of unsuspecting Sharpclaw like a cerulean missile sent from the heavens. Her staff collided with the ground and some sort of pressure wave shot out of it; the five lizardmen in the courtyard sent to the ground in a maelstrom of limbs and tails as she touched down.

I tucked my rifle against my shoulder and braced it against the top of the fence. Sure enough, more Sharpclaw started scrambling over the fence on the opposite side of the courtyard. I settled my sights on one and fired. The Enfield's report drowned out the rest of the battle; the Sharpclaw I targeted falling back over the fence. Forcing my fear back into the pit of my stomach, I concentrated on working the bolt and pulling the trigger.

Meanwhile, Krystal was wading through the other Sharpclaw like an angel of vengeance; her staff a blur in her paws as she deflected clumsy blows from their clubs and swords and delivered powerful, crushing attacks whenever she could see an opening. By the time I started firing she already had two of them on the ground.

The others were still piling into the courtyard. I couldn't keep up; I had sent six of them back to Hell but they still kept coming. I slammed another round into the chamber and took aim at one that was trying to creep behind her. The rifle's report and recoil rattled me as the bullet took the reptilian antagonist to the floor.

The scuffling of feet to my right snapped my attention to the battle, and I realized at least one of them was coming after me; deciding to skirt around the fence to try and flank me. I muttered a curse under my breath and swung the rifle around, working the bolt once again. My sights fell on the attacker and I pulled the trigger.

The _click_ produced by the firing pin striking an empty chamber somehow sounded louder than a gunshot; the realization that I had run dry at a critical moment nearly immobilized me with fear. "_Fuck!_" I spat, dropping the rifle and struggling to extract my .45, scrambling backwards to futilely put distance between myself and the now charging Saurian. As if it were sent by Zeus a flaming mass streaked in from my left and into the lizard's chest, sending it to the ground as a mass of howling, smoking lizard. I filled my hand with my pistol and shot it for good measure, vaulting over the wall to return to the fray.

Krystal was facing off against the remaining four Sharpclaw, who had grown very wary of her fearsome staff and fighting skills. To be completely honest she could have probably fended off attacks from Chuck Norris and Jet Li all at once; she was _extremely_ quick. Her telepathic abilities were likely a great asset to her combat skills; being able to know what your opponent's next move would be gave her a major advantage.

Her staff blocked a flurry of blows from the Sharpclaw that surrounded her, their swords, club, and spear unable to snake past her defenses. She wasn't making any headway against them, either; I assumed she was hemmed in by them when she fired at the one who attacked me. I had to help her out, so I steadied my pistol and planted its sights on one who was attempting to circle behind her. I fired two shots; the .45 barking its report into the night air. Her attacker fell backwards, allowing the vixen to once again spring to the offensive.

Her staff became a blur in her paws; the golden weapon deftly parrying her opponent's attacks while delivering crushing counterattacks. One Sharpclaw received a vicious swat on the forearm; the sound of bones cracking carrying to my ears even above its howl of pain. That howl was cut short by her staff viciously connecting with its throat; another sound of snapping bones announced the Saurian's departure from the living world.

I stood there, my body tensing up as I saw her motions. Seeing her in action was somewhat unnerving; it was as if she was a completely different person in combat than she was normally… although I had known her for a grand total of a few hours which meant there was no 'normal' I could base her behavior on. The blows she landed on the other Sharpclaw were brutal and efficient; she dispatched them both within seconds. Her cold emerald eyes scanned the silent courtyard before falling upon me. "Good work." Her response still carried that cold professionalism behind it. "Thank you with that last one; I wasn't sure how long I'd last being surrounded like that."

"Jesus." I breathed, surveying the damage. We had both held our own; seven Sharpclaw had fallen to her staff and another seven by my gunfire. "I didn't think you were so… skilled." My voice or my thoughts betrayed the mix of awe and trepidation behind my words, as she was quick to respond.

"We're not saints, Adam. Guardians train to protect the innocent against bandits, rogue nobles, dangerous beasts, and the forces of evil. In order to do that we cannot show mercy to our opponents unless they yield." As I approached, her eyes locked onto mine; her gaze cold yet determined. "You're living by the same mantra. Kill or be killed."

That cinched it. She was definitely not the naïve, inexperienced vixen that the game portrayed. She had a hell of a lot more combat experience and training than I did, at any rate. Either way I was glad she was on my side of the equation; with skills like that I _really_ didn't want to run into her in a dark alley at midnight. "I guess what's left for us to do is talk to the Queen Earthwalker and go rescue her son."

Krystal gave me a nod, glancing around at the Sharpclaw bodies littering the ground. I did the same, my mind not particularly at ease with the carnage we had created. They were the enemy, but at the same time they were also caught up in this whole sordid mess.

I did a double-take as one of the bodies seemed to fade out of existence. The others soon followed suit, prompting me to turn around to find the battlefield littered with their weapons and bloodstains. "How in the hell…?" I inquired, my mind now officially blown. I thought that little detail was simply something in the game code and not something replicated in reality.

"It's the magical energies on Sauria, Adam." Krystal's explanation carried to my ears like a judge's verdict. "Whenever someone dies here, the planet's energies simply absorbs the body; a form of recharge. It's similar to how our High Priests back on Cerinia offered themselves to powerful artifacts or totems; their bodies help fuel them. It's similar to how my staff works."

"So your weapon works off of lifeforces or something like that?" I inquired, shooting her a puzzled look. "Like a vampire?" I hated to admit it, but if that was true I'd be keeping the hell away from that thing.

"Not exactly." The vixen pondered a moment, looking just like a college professor who had been asked a very tough question. "The staff channels my own energy, but it doesn't sap it away. It takes years of training to use one effectively, but someone not trained in its use can power it using certain magical storage devices." At that last part she locked her eyes on mine. "If we come across one I will point it out to you, just in case you need to use it."

"You do realize that I'd more likely kill myself with that thing before even taking one of them out, right?" I wasn't exaggerating. The reason why that sword sat in my basement instead of hanging up in my room was due to a rather nasty incident that happened years ago. I slammed it into my knee while trying to teach myself how to use it; fortunately it was as dull as a butter knife which meant it hadn't taken my leg off. After half an hour of writhing on the floor I put it into storage and subsequently forgot about it. "Given the choice I'd rather plug them and be done with it."

I thought I heard a sigh echo from her lips, but I wasn't sure. "Your weapons will run out of ammunition eventually, and as you said that safe will be very hard to get into. You might not know how to use a weapon such as this, but you must learn how to. It will be the difference between surviving and dying."

"But for now I'd rather prop up my lack of skill by taking shots at them from a distance." I shook my head and turned away, giving her one last glance before taking a step towards the house. "Make sure the Queen Earthwalker's okay. I'm going back to the house."

"Why?" Her voice betrayed her puzzlement, that as well as a little bit of irritation.

"Gotta find a coat and gloves for you. I hope you're prepared for ice and snow, because we're headed up there." I stabbed a finger at a silhouette in the distance; we were about to tackle Ice Mountain in a few moments and I hoped to God that we were ready for it.


	6. Chapter 6: Blood on the Ice 1 of 2

**Notes: This is my first chapter in quite some time, and for that I deeply apologize. Life issues have taken major precedence over my writing, and I struggled with writer's block on this chapter something fierce. To put this into perspective, I had about 1/3 of this chapter written when I posted the last one up, around Christmas of last year. It's taken me half a year to get this one out; in my opinion it's been way too long. I've had some very major things come at me in the past few months(I swear, crap never ceases to stop) and needed a break from just about everything.**

**I've put this one up as a two-parter. The next part will likely come much sooner than this one had taken me, so keep a watch out for this. I will likely start posting this one up on FA as well, so if any of you have an account over there and prefer to watch my writing over there(admittedly their story submission abilities are far, far worse than 's, but I do have friends on there that complain I don't put anything up other than pics on there) just send me a PM and I'll give you my FA account name. **

**On that end, I'll be doing a much better job at keeping up with any PMs sent my way now, so if you have any questions, comments, or concerns feel free to PM me.**

Chapter 6: Blood on the Ice, Part 1.

To say it was cold out would have been a massive understatement. It was bone-chilling; the kind of weather I made sure to avoid like the plague. My best guess as a thirteen year veteran of Colorado winters put the temperature outside the cave we had been teleported into at around five degrees; possibly worse with the wind chill at night.

Krystal may have had fur, but she was clinging to the black suede jacket I had found for her. That combined with insulated work gloves made her look like some sort of vulpine construction worker, but at least she was warm. I could feel the cold biting through my mechanic's gloves but I needed the added dexterity to shoot.

I took a breath of freezing air, my hands tightening around my Enfield. Krystal took a few steps forward, her muzzle scrunched into an expression of concentration. "I can't sense the Queen's son. They may have moved him elsewhere, but there are a few Sharpclaw around."

"Don't go out in the open." I replied, tucking my rifle into my shoulder. "They've got a cannon set up covering this area, and if we're spotted we're fucked." I took another deep breath, my mind trying to figure out how best to get past them.

"I could draw their fire, and while they're distracted you could shoot them?" She suggested, hefting her staff in her paws. I blinked at her for a moment, but she had a point. "My staff can create an energy shield; that will give you enough time to get them out of the way."

"You sold me, but you be careful, okay?" I responded, tensing up for action. Only twenty minutes had passed from our last fight; I had just enough time to stock up on ammunition and get Krystal some warmer clothes before we reached the Warpstone. I was getting a little tired; I'd at least sleep soundly tonight. I just needed to keep my wits about me for this one. "Are you ready?"

The vixen nodded at me, her eyes still filled with the fire and determination from earlier. We'd have to be careful, but we stood a decent chance at getting out of this in one piece. Krystal was nothing like I had expected; she was extremely skilled at what she did and confident without being cocky. Her answer was simple. "I am. Cover me." With that she darted forward, her staff gripped tightly in her paws.

She ran out into the moonlit, snow-blanketed clearing, her staff glowing with an ethereal blue light. She fell to her knees, clutching her staff as a swirling vortex of blue energy surrounded her. It was then that the dull, rumbling report reached my ears.

The cannonball landed a few feet in front of her shield. The iron sphere exploded with a deafening boom, and I could hear the sharp, whizzing noise of shrapnel sail past my position. Krystal's shield flashed a brilliant shade of purple but still held; my ears were ringing but I still had a job to do.

I darted out of the cave and brought the rifle's sights up. The Sharpclaw gunner crew was about a hundred yards away, but their position was lit by torches. The two were scrambling to load the cannon, which gave me time to settle the Enfield's sight blade on one of them. I pulled the trigger, but after the cannon's blast the gunfire sounded muted, like I had been through the mother of all rock concerts.

I worked the bolt as fast as I could and delivered a followup shot to the second Sharpclaw. It tumbled off the platform and into the icy terrain below with a hollow _thump_ which I could barely hear in my near-deafened state. The threat was out of the way, which gave me time to check up on my Cerinian ally. The flash of her shield deactivating revealed her unharmed figure, giving me a nod of what had to have been approval.

"Good job." She remarked, pointing towards the now-silent cannon. "You're a bit more proficient with that weapon than I thought you would be." She offered me a slight grin as I walked up to her, my boots sinking into three inches of fresh snow.

"Thanks." I scowled up at the now silent gun emplacement. "We're just getting started, though." I took a deep breath as I glanced toward the large wooden door that barred our progress into another natural cavern. "I think there's a few of them in there, so be careful." I exchanged the Enfield for my 1911; the pistol would be a better bet for the fast-paced, close quarters fight we were about to get into.

"You're right. There're three of them in there, but I'm not sensing anyone else." That caused me to scratch my head; where was Tricky? I approached the door with my pistol leading the way, prepared for anything and everything.

While I wasn't experienced in the slightest, years of playing realistic shooters had granted me a rudimentary knowledge of combat tactics. Krystal seemed to let me lead the way, making me wonder if this was some sort of test on her part or not; perhaps some way to gauge how I would actually perform in real combat. My right hand kept my .45 trained upon the door as my left pushed against it; the ever-widening slice of the cavern beyond covered by my pistol's line of fire.

It didn't take me long for my eyes to lock onto the first Sharpclaw of the three. It was standing near a contraption that was pretty much a hovering motorcycle. I had no damn clue how to use it, but remembered this sequence of the game _very_ well. Its back was to me, but Krystal's voice carried through my head; a nugget of advice she told me not twenty minutes ago: _"You're living by the same mantra. Kill or be killed."_ My finger tightened on the trigger.

The .45's thunderclap was nearly deafening in the enclosed space. The Sharpclaw collapsed forward as it was drilled by the solitary round. So much for stealth. I threw my weight against the door and snapped the pistol to bear on the remaining reptiles.

My second shot pitched another Sharpclaw from the hoverbike it was scrambling onto, yet as I aimed at the third it gunned its own bike's engines with a harsh, whining roar. Snow spat everywhere as the whine intensified to a crescendo that nearly equaled the .45's report, and the Sharpclaw was ejected from the small cavern in the blink of an eye.

"Dammit!" I growled, pointing towards one of the bikes. "We can't let that bastard get away! You know how to ride one of these?" I rushed towards the bike, my teeth clenched as a wave of fear buckled through my stomach.

"Yes!" The vixen called out as she rushed past me, leaping on the bike with the skillful grace of a gymnast. Her fingers and thumbs hit several controls on the vehicle's handlebars, starting it up with another harsh whine. "Get on behind me!"

I nodded and straddled the bike, planting myself on the seat behind her. I froze for a moment, gripping onto the side of the seat as tightly as I could. "No!" Krystal's voice snapped. "Hold onto me, or you're just going to fall off! Hurry!"

I admitted that I was a little hesitant to, even though I just received an engraved invitation. My arms hesitantly snaked around the vixen's waist and I pressed myself to her back. It was funny; a few people I knew would have killed to do this in real life but I was a little more than hesitant, like I was crossing some sort of boundary which shouldn't be crossed. I shook the thought out of my mind as the bike took off.

It was easily the fastest land vehicle I had ever been on. We were suspended six inches above the frozen ground and already moving at a speed I would have called ridiculous. My driving experience included seat time with a Lotus Elise, a Celica GT-Four, and a Subaru WRX STi; this hoverbike could have laughed at any one of those. Furthermore, Krystal was pushing it flat-out; her literally supernatural reflexes keeping the bike on path and dodging objects with the skill of a professional rally driver. I was, simply put, scared shitless. One wrong move on her part and we would be smeared all over the landscape. All I really could do was hang on for dear life.

"He's up ahead!" Her voice was muted by the rushing, biting wind past us; I forgot to mention that the wind chill caused by us rampaging on the hoverbike was insanely cold; my face felt like it had been peppered with glass fragments but fortunately started to numb. I squinted against the wind and noticed the Sharpclaw's bike booking it like his hair was on fire and his ass was catching. Krystal's next words chilled me to the bone faster than the hostile environment. "Shoot him!"

My teeth gritted as she said that. The odds of hitting the Sharpclaw were somewhere between astronomical and infinitesimal. My .45 had the problem of mismatched sights; it originally came with high-profile combat sights, but the front blade had been replaced with an old surplus one that was half the height. The fact I was on a pitching, dodging hoverbike was bad enough; the target was also moving. The movies made it look easy, but I would have counted myself lucky to hit a damn tractor-trailer under the same conditions.

The .357 I had given Krystal promised slightly better chances, as its sights were intact and dialed in just the way I wanted them. I hoped to Hell she didn't mind reaching under her jacket and pulling it out. As I did so she didn't even flinch; she most likely read my mind as I hefted the big revolver. "Don't expect a miracle!" I yelled; trying to keep the sights planted on the Sharpclaw's bike.

The bikes may have been equally powerful, but Krystal and I had a combined weight less than that of the Sharpclaw. We were gaining on him no matter what he did. Krystal's snarled reply carried to my ear; her tone of voice a mix of anxiety and frustration. "Take the shot! He's thinking about reaching for a bomb!"

"Fuck!" I snapped back, gripping onto her as tightly as I could for added stability. My thumb drew the Taurus' hammer back in one smooth motion; I would need the lighter single-action trigger to even have a remote chance of making it. As soon as my sights fell on the Sharpclaw I pressed on the trigger. The .357's report was dulled by the rushing air; a muted thunderclap on a hurricane-force wind.

I didn't hit him. With all that was happening I wasn't even sure where I hit. Time seemed to slow down for me as the Sharpclaw reached into a satchel attached to the side of the bike; coming out with a baseball-sized sphere that was unmistakably a grenade. "Incoming!" I yelped, frantically aligning the Taurus for another shot.

The grenade left the Sharpclaw's hand in a lazy arc. I tried to focus on my sights instead of on it, yet Krystal's emergency maneuver nearly yanked me off the bike. I don't know how I maintained my grip on both her and my pistol, but I did. The world lit up in a flash of bright orange light; the grenade's blast and overpressure felt like an unseen hand trying its best to push me off. Instinctively I threw my remaining arm around Krystal's waist, gritting my teeth as I tried to ride it out.

"We can't allow him to alert any others!" The Cerinian's voice growled into my ear. "They're under orders to kill the Prince if anyone mounts a rescue attempt!" Instead of backing off like any cautious and prudent being would have done, Krystal stood on it. The hoverbike's engine grew in pitch to a harsh whine, and we closed in much like a Ferrari would an old Buick driven by a decrepit octogenarian.

I tried not to grumble. Her meaning was clear; she needed me to actually land a shot. Even as we closed in that was no easy task. If I could make that shot, I was Carlos fucking Hathcock. "Just try and get me in closer!" I growled, raising the Taurus once more.

Krystal leaned into the bike and pushed the engine even harder; we had hit a straight stretch and it was about our last chance to take the Sharpclaw out. We crept up onto the opponent's bike and I gripped the revolver as tightly as I could; I wasn't confident I would make the shot but I had to try. Instead of lining up my line of fire carefully I simply pointed the weapon at the Saurian and pulled the trigger; I emptied all six rounds at the bike in the space of a few seconds.

The fusillade amazingly worked; the Sharpclaw slumping over onto the bike a very good indication that one of my 125-grain hollowpoint rounds had struck home. Without a rider the vehicle became a very dangerous missile; I dared to glance down at the digital readout on our bike and saw that we were doing 115kph… well over 60mph. "Slow the fuck down!" I screamed, returning my cold-numbed arm around her waist. "We're going to crash!"

Instead of complying she pushed down on the throttle control even further… we ended up hitting 150kph in what felt like a split instant. That was pushing damn near 100mph; a speed I really only felt comfortable with on a straight, flat highway. The fact we were evading a crashing hoverbike down a narrow canyon at that speed made me nearly lock up in deep-rooted fear.

We shot past the wobbling bike in its last few seconds of existence. It slammed right into a tree stump, turning it and its deceased rider into a red-orange explosion of flame and greasy black smoke. The heat and pressure wave made our bike wobble as I clung to the reckless vixen, squeezing her tightly enough that I wondered if I was in danger of hurting her.

Our bike sped into a tunnel; the roughly-hewn stone walls lit by torches. The dim glow helped the headlights only barely; they were significantly more powerful than a newer car's HID headlamps. Answering an unspoken prayer, Krystal let off of the accelerator. I soon quit holding onto her as tightly, but my voice came out as an angered, frightened outburst. "What the _fuck_ were you _doing_? We could have been _killed!_"

Her voice responded in a matter-of-fact, neutral tone that sounded like she was discussing the weather in some far-off country. "If we had slowed down we _would_ have been killed, Adam. That bike's powerplant turned it into a massive pile of shrapnel. I'd rather take my chances with racing away from it."

Deep down I had to admit it made sense, but that didn't mean I wasn't still freaked out from our close brush with death. "You're crazy, you know that?" I huffed, simply wishing the damn ride was over with.

Leaning up against her, I felt her laugh more than I heard it. "We do what we have to! We're still alive, right?" I could feel the hoverbike slowing down, starting to bring our earthshattering ride to an end. At least she wasn't about to jump that cliff like Fox had done in the game. That was an extremely good thing as the edge of said cliff was looming a few yards away from the now-stopped hoverbike.

I was the first to get off the machine, my entire body shaking with a massive dose of adrenaline. The past fourteen hours or so had taken its toll on my body. I was hungry, thirsty, and quickly getting to the point of wearing out. It wasn't exactly the best situation to be in but I really didn't have a choice except to go on.

The vixen was busy from the moment she stepped off the bike itself. Her paws started rummaging through its saddlebags, a nod of contentment offered at some of its contents. "Do you know how to climb a rope?" Her question was offered with a slight amount of sarcasm.

"Yeah, they teach us _all_ of that in high school, along with Krav Maga and underwater demolition courses." I offered it right back. With my fear of heights this was _not_ something I was looking forward to. I had tried to conquer it with a rock climbing class at my high school nearly a decade ago, but that hadn't done too much good. My only saving grace was that I half-ass knew how to rappel.

My comment elicited a snort from her as she hefted a long coil of rope out of the saddlebag. "Then I hope they taught you well… or that you're a quick study." Krystal managed to find a secure place to tie the rope down to; a lone pine tree whose gnarled roots had taken their stubborn purchase into the frozen ground. "This is the only way down there. Care to go first?" As she asked her question she threw the coil of rope over the side of the cliff.

"I'm going to regret this, aren't I?" I gingerly stepped over to the rope and picked it up in my hands. It had been ages since I had done anything like this, and when I did I had the luxury of safety gear. I readied myself when I got to the edge, keeping a firm grip on the rope.

"I'll watch your back on the way." Krystal's voice switched back to her no-nonsense, pure business tone. She could be damned serious when she needed to be. Her staff was already out and covering the area below; a small clearing surrounded by sheer rock walls. A hot spring was happily bubbling below, steam rising off the water in stark defiance to the frozen wasteland around it. Yet, something was missing from the picture; a single young dinosaur we had been sent to retrieve.

"He's not down here where he should be. What gives?" I inquired to myself, my hands and feet starting to do their part in helping me scale down the cliff. It was extremely slow going, but the fifty foot drop was eventually tackled. I kept my ears and eyes open for any potential threats and pitfalls, but there thankfully were none.

As I hit the ground I turned around, unslinging my Enfield and aiming it down the narrow valley path hewn between two nearly vertical monoliths of rock. "Okay, you're up!" Much to my amazement Krystal managed to descend the rope in less than half the time it took me to do it; I expected her to be faster than I was but not by _that_ wide a margin.

The vixen half-scowled at me. "That wasn't really all that hard. Don't tell me you're afraid of heights, are you?" I kept silent for a moment, opting to slide a fresh magazine into my M1911 and top off my Enfield's while I was at it. I was trying to keep track of my ammunition; I was already expending far too much to feel comfortable about blazing away indiscriminately.

"Actually I am, thank you very much." I shrugged, reaching for the empty Taurus that I had unconsciously stuffed into the waistband of my pants. At the very least I was keeping track of my weapons. I released the cylinder catch, dumping the spent .357 Magnum casings onto the snow-packed ground. I frowned as the realization set in; I had already shot through over half of my Magnum loads. My best count was that I had about a hundred .38 rounds left. It would have to do, but I also needed to get my way into that damned gun safe.

The vixen arched her eyebrow as I offered her the empty pistol. She took it and started reloading, speaking as she shoved my diminishing supply of ammunition into the handgun. "This might not be what you want to hear, but if you have fears you are going to have to face them better than you have been." Krystal tucked the pistol back into the waistband of her pants and pointed forward, down the arch. "Scales and his Sharpclaw know no fear. If we're going to survive, we must be able to have no fear, either."

"How very Zen of you." I responded, taking my first steps down the snowpacked path. "I'm not trying to be an ass about this, but I just hate heights. I hate a lot of things, come to think of it. Doesn't mean I can't throw my gun in to help these Saurians, but you do have to realize I don't have your kind of training. I'll do the best I can with what I've got, and that will have to make do."

"It means you will have to improve, Adam." Krystal's voice held a hint at biting back frustration. "You must understand that just focusing on the situation at hand and pushing your fear aside will help; you've done it before." She increased her pace to walk right beside me, her paw falling upon my shoulder as she did so. "You're intelligent and willing to put in the effort. You just need the confidence."

"I'm marooned on an alien planet that should only exist in a videogame, and I'm facing the very real possibility I can't get home." I shot back, my thoughts finally wandering to the subject I was dreading to dredge up. "If you call that something to be confident over, I'd just _love_ to see what you'd consider discouraging."

She didn't say anything after that. Hell, I didn't know what to say, either. For the most part our immediate survival needs were fulfilled. We had access to food, water, and shelter. With the exception of .357, we had plenty of ammunition. We had each other to watch our backs. Sauria might be in severe danger but with Krystal's help and my knowledge of the game we had a very real chance of victory.

Yet at the same time I wondered what that could be worth as we trudged down the path. What would happen after we got Sauria back together? If I couldn't find a way home I would be marooned in the Lylat System. I would be considered a freak of nature, most likely; archaic technology, weaponry, and all. I'd likely be taken in by the Cornerian government and experimented on; just like what I would fully expect our government would do if they came upon a Lylatian. The only option I could see would to be to stay with Krystal and hope she would return to Cerinia… even then I doubted I'd be treated much better.

"Your thoughts are screaming louder than words ever can." Her voice spoke up after a few moments. "I cannot say your fears about Lylatian society are unfounded, but you don't need to fear my kind. You're selfless enough to help Sauria in its plight and as such would likely be welcomed on Cerinia as a Guardian."

"That's all fine and dandy, but I'd prefer to find a way home." I offered a sigh to the crisp, chill air. "I know you can't promise me we'll find a way, but I need to at least try. There's no way your ancient Cerinian buddies would have tossed only one sphere on my planet, just in the off chance someone would stumble across it."

"You're likely right about that." Krystal replied, a peculiar look crossing her features. Her voice dropped to a whisper. "We'll talk about this later. Someone's coming this way."

My blood turned ice-cold, spurred along by the frigid weather. My hands filled themselves with my rifle, the ancient bolt-action once again brought to the ready. My vulpine ally followed suit, her staff clenched in her paws as we covered the approach in the narrow canyon.

"Two Sharpclaw, and I think they're chasing the Earthwalker prince we're looking for." She paused for a moment, her expression changing to what I could best describe as perplexing concentration. "They're afraid of something. I'm not sure what, but they are very panicked."

"That's just grand." I hissed, bringing my rifle up to my shoulder. When they come into view, take the one on the right. I'll get the one on the left." My thoughts centered upon my sight picture, breathing, and stance. My uncle was a competitive shooter; he taught me a few tricks and I had watched him in several competitions. With stakes like this I couldn't afford to miss.

Tricky came into view first, the young Earthwalker running like his hair was on fire and his ass was catching. He definitely looked afraid of something, although that was to be expected with the two Sharpclaw chasing him. I shifted my grip on my rifle and focused on the front sight as the Earthwalker slowed, likely unsure what to make of our presence on the winter-blasted path.

That hesitation would have spelled his demise if we hadn't been ready. The Sharpclaw came barreling up behind him, yet they didn't even get the chance of taking a swing. Krystal's staff went off first, the whispering 'swoosh' of her fireball signaling it was time for me to go. In the back of my mind the sound was extremely familiar, but I couldn't place it.

Time itself felt like it had slowed to a crawl. My finger fell to the Enfield's trigger and stroked it; my digit taking up the ample freeplay the nearly century-old rifle provided. There was a brief instant of resistance before the trigger broke. My rifle's sharp crack competed with Krystal's fire blaster; the muzzle flash obscuring my target as the recoil slammed the buttplate against my shoulder.

I immediately racked the bolt, keeping my eyes locked onto the crumpled form in the snow that comprised the Sharpclaw I had just shot. As the Sharpclaw bodies faded I lowered my rifle, glancing to Krystal then to Tricky. "Easy enough." I responded, glancing down to the young Saurian. "Now, down to brass tacks. We're here to get you back home."

I was instantly reminded that like most Saurians, Tricky only spoke their language. "Nxe uho 0ei?" he responded. Without the nifty Internet Saurian translators(or even the benefit of the cheat sheet I had saved on my laptop; the one with the dead battery sitting back on my nightstand at home) I was hopeless. I was fluent in English and close to it in German. That was about it.

Thankfully, Krystal took up my slack. She responded in kind, and the mention of my name and her pointing toward me at several points in the conversation gave me the impression that I was a topic of it as well. The conversation became a little more intense, as both Krystal and Tricky became a little more animated. I had no idea what they were talking about, so I stayed out of it.

The fact the Sharpclaws' bodies disappeared into thin air, leaving behind only their clothing and equipment, unnerved me. The thought that could happen to me wasn't that pleasant, to say the least. It did, however, serve as a reminder that I needed to stay vigilant; more easily said than done in the frigid wasteland in which we found ourselves.

My brief reverie was interrupted by Krystal's voice. "We should be safe for now. Tricky said the Sharpclaw are nervous; something killed a few of them several days ago, but they're not sure what." She looked as puzzled as I was. The Sharpclaw were the top of the pecking order here, and the thought of any of the Saurian tribes out and out killing them was a little strange. "And let me guess, Tricky has no idea what offed them." Something didn't seem right about all of that, just like some of the Sharpclaw I had shot actually leaving their bodies behind for a while I wasn't sure what to make of it; perhaps Sauria's magical energies were going haywire with everything going on?

"Unfortunately, you're right." Krystal paused for a moment, as if she were trying to catch a thought. After some time she cast a pensive look at me, then shook her head. "I can't sense anything, either. We should be cautious, but we need to get Tricky back to his mother… before we all freeze."

"I can live with that." It was a little warmer down in the valley due to the relative lack of wind, but it was still really fucking cold. My hands, feet, and face were still numb from the hoverbike ride, and right now I'd pop a round into every Sharpclaw on the planet for just ten minutes on a warm Jamaican beach. "Let's go, before the damn sun comes up and we're easier to spot."

We made time in relative silence, winding down the mountain valley path. For some reason Tricky was silent, which was alright by me. Krystal was the only one who understood him, anyway. We came upon our first obstacle soon enough; one which I wasn't too upset about.

A cavernous pit cut across the path, a lake of boiling lava snaking underneath. The warmth was invigorating, even if it meant an inconvenience. I could see Krystal's features brighten as we stood back from the edge, simply soaking in the heat. "It's not Key West, but it'll do for now." I chuckled.

"Key… west?" The vixen looked puzzled for a moment, giving me a curious look. Afterwards she sniffed a little bit, wincing at the stench of sulfur wafting from the pit. "Don't tell me we have to go down there."

"It's in the game. There's a switch in that little niche off to our right. It'll raise a bridge through the lava, but we have to be careful." Two subjects fascinated me when I was a kid. One was the Titanic and the other was volcanoes. Hot lava was only one danger they presented. "The gasses lava gives off are poisonous. Once we get that rock bridge up we need to be pretty quick about crossing it."

She nodded at me, giving a glance to Tricky as she did so. She spoke a few sentences to him, and he responded in kind. "He says he's starving… the Sharpclaw weren't really intent on feeding him." She glanced up at me, and judging by the incredulous look I gave her she scowled a bit. "It's been three days, Adam. Wouldn't you be starving?"

"You have a point, but I hope you're willing to smack those shrooms over the head, because I really can't." I hefted my Enfield to punctuate my words. "I'm not about to risk cracking century-old wood just to fetch him his dinner." Now it was Krystal's turn to look at me like I had told her the sky was made of Kool-Aid and the clouds tasted just like cherry pie.

"…what are you talking about?" It took her a moment to figure it out, but I wasn't sure whether she was reading my mind or his to do it. "He doesn't eat our food, right? And, you seem to think there's some over there_. Semo ed, Tricky. No'cc vadt jemo veet eloh kxoho._" She stalked away, flashing me an exasperated look_." Zijk awdeho kxo jkhudwo shoukiho. R0 Melos, xaj juhsujm aj wokkadw udde0adw..."_

"I'll just stay here and…" Krystal and Tricky rounded the bend, not even turning back towards me. "…cover the approach." I blinked, absorbing the warmth and taking a moment to rest. I wasn't sure if I had offended her or not. Perhaps the stress really was getting to me. Like Tricky I was also hungry; a few crackers and a can of tuna several hours ago was the only meal I had all day. I took a glance at my watch, noting that it was approaching 10:30 back home. Fifteen hours of being scared shitless, in combat, and interacting with a fictional vixen from a video game. My thoughts were a mess, and I wasn't entirely sure I wasn't dreaming this. If I was, then I was really fucking late for work.

A rumbling of stone on stone startled me from my thoughts. A large center 'island' was rising from the lake of lava, which meant Krystal figured out how to get to the lever to operate it. That was one good thing, at least. However, one thing was for certain… the 'bridge' was going to be _hot_. Krystal's voice accompanied the sound of crunching snow. "Now we're getting somewhere." She flashed me another one of those looks, pointing across the gorge. "Now it's time for you to do us a favor… make sure there aren't any Sharpclaw waiting to ambush us?"

Seriously? A sigh escaped me as I turned towards her. "This is about that damn shroom comment, right? Jesus." With a huff I slung my rifle and started to descend into the lava pit before she could respond. I wasn't kidding about it being dangerous; the sulfur dioxide immediately stinging my eyes and the stench making it hard to concentrate. I tried to take shallow breaths as I rushed forward, leaping onto the 'island' and then onto the opposite side. Even with that little exposure my head was swimming; who the fuck thought crossing a bridge inside a pit of lava would be a walk in the park? It took a concentrated effort to climb up the other side; by then my vision was blurry and I felt another massive headache coming on.

I heard Krystal shouting to me but her voice was muted and indistinct, as if it were news from some distant land. I struggled to stand up, though I could feel the effects of traversing the lava pit lessening with each passing second. I tumbled and almost fell, only the effort of unslinging my rifle and using it as a makeshift walking stick keeping me from munching on some snow. My hearing buzzed and it was hard to concentrate; I just now understood exactly how dangerous my trip had been.

Krystal shouted to me again. It sounded like "Are you alright!" I waved to her with my other hand; turning towards the two. Even that made me dizzy and a little nauseous. I had warned her about the gasses, but I had to drive that point home.

"When you cross, be _really_ quick about it! Hold your breath if you can! I'm serious, if you're not careful this will kill you!" I was starting to feel better but between that and nearly having my head crack open when I played the part of Krystal's bumbling knight in shining camo, I had a headache that would likely take six Excedrin to bring down.

"Hold on!" Krystal shouted back, her annoyed tone replaced with a level of concern I hadn't heard before. "We'll be over there soon!" It wasn't like I had much choice. I wasn't a paramedic but I was likely going through a moderate case of some sort of poisoning. There were so many things that could kill in hot magma it wasn't funny. If encountered out in the open it wasn't so bad, but collected down in that pit it was pretty much lethal.

Krystal grabbed Tricky as best as she could, sweeping him into both arms much as one would a dog or a cat. That would make it extremely difficult for her to maneuver; a wave of fear came through my pain-addled mind as she simply jumped down into the pit. She ran and jumped onto the middle platform, then onto the 'exit' towards me. I leaned over and she immediately thrust Tricky out. "Take him!" she shouted, as I struggled to grasp the terrified, wiggling Saurian.

He was fucking _heavy_. He might have been the size of a small dog, but he must have weighed eighty pounds. I wasn't in the shape or condition for this, and I had a severely hard time bringing him up. I set him down on the snowy ground and immediately turned to Krystal. She was trying to climb up but I could already tell her movements were sluggish. This was _not_ good. _Very_ not good. Taking a deep breath to stave off the effects of the volcanic gasses, I reached down and grabbed her arm. Adrenaline surged through my worn, abused body and I managed to physically pull the vixen out of the pit, dragging her on the frozen ground for a few yards before collapsing onto the snow myself.

I don't know how long we just laid there, trying to recover from the ordeal. I wasn't sure if it was a lower dose of gas I received or if my body was used to higher altitudes and a lower concentration of oxygen, but I got to my feet first. Krystal was still where I left her, looking completely worn out and panting. "You okay?" I asked, reaching over to grasp her shoulder.

She stared up at me with slightly glassy eyes, obviously trying to concentrate. She was breathing as hard as one would after running a mile, but she managed to muster up the concentration to answer me. "I think I'll be okay. I just need a few moments." She flashed a weak smile. "Thank you. You did well, getting Tricky and I out of there."

'Yeah, but you need to be more careful, Krys." I slipped up, using a nickname rather than her full title. I cringed, expecting a retaliation; surprisingly enough none came. She gave a short laugh(it sounded like more of a yip to me; I should have been expecting that).

"Don't be afraid of me." she spoke between breaths. "Yes, your culture is quite odd to me and there are times where it's an annoyance, but you're doing fine. I think you earned the right to be less than formal with me."

I was about to respond to that, but caught Tricky's voice calling out to us. It was the first time I had really looked past our current area, where the valley path was blocked in a pile of snow that had fallen in a mini-avalanche of sorts. "_Nxuk uho 0ei kne teadw?_" he inquired.

"_No uho kucbadw udt hojkadw, Tricky._" Krystal responded, struggling to get up. I helped her as I stood up, collecting my rifle from the ground as I did so. I glanced up, casting my gaze to the coming dawn sky. We needed to get off this mountain ASAP; I didn't want to get caught up in another wave of Sharpclaw soldiers.

"_Sud no we den?_" Tricky inquired in the Saurian language, casting his gaze to Krystal as he did so. "_A'm sect udt jkacc u cakkco xidwh0._" He was pacing in front of the snowdrift and pawing at it quite impatiently; even I could tell he was more than eager to get out of here.

Krystal's voice carried more or less a matronly tone to it, which I assumed was meant to temper the young Earthwalker's impatience. "_0oj, rik 0ei doot ke jku0 douh ij. Ak'j tudwoheij eik kxoho._" She spared a glance to me, giving me the impression she was a little perturbed about the interruption.

Without waiting for us to speak up, Tricky started digging through the snowfall. He was about as fast as he was in the game; burrowing through the obstruction like a gopher with its ass on fire. He was wide enough for us to squeeze through, although I had to remove my utility belt to do so. Krystal didn't have that difficulty.

We were in trouble as soon as we emerged from the tunnel. Three Sharpclaw were waiting for us, growling in pleasant surprise as we struggled to get out of our compromised position. Tricky yelped as one came after him, managing to dart between him and his comrade. He didn't bother to give chase, glancing at me like I was a piece of meat dangling in front of him as he bounced the spiked club he held in the palm of his opposing hand. I was still halfway in the tunnel Tricky had made, and Krystal was stuck behind me. My .45 would take too long to reach, and my Enfield was on my back. I didn't have any options.

I unzipped one of the pockets on the utility belt I had in my hands and extracted my last line of defense. My FEG PA63 had been a standard issue military and police pistol in Hungary during the Cold War. It fired the standard 9x18mm Soviet service round, which in comparison to my .45 and .357 was quite anemic. It was a borderline caliber taking a normal human into account. I didn't have much hope to bring a heavily-muscled, 350lb Sharpclaw with it.

I flicked the pistol's safety off and pointed it at the charging lizard, quickly stroking the trigger. The PA63 barked and bucked in my hands; it was a small, light pistol and the recoil was even worse than my .45. I fired four times, all of them solid chest hits. I grimaced as the Sharpclaw kept coming; blood streaming down his armor as he growled with a rage that almost scared me senseless.

I regained enough sense to point the handgun at its face and empty the magazine. That did the trick as at least one round struck him in the head, the Sharpclaw falling to the snow mere yards in front of me. The corpse dissolved, leaving its armor and weapon behind; it was just then that I felt something press against my legs and scramble onto my back. Krystal.

I felt my Enfield strain against its sling at the same time Krystal pressed against me. I could tell instantly what she was about to do; she was about to use it against the other Sharpclaw that were charging forward. I buried my face in the freezing snow, about to say goodbye to my eardrums and perhaps hello to some singed hair.

Forget the headache I had because of smacking my dome against the stone floors of Krazoa Palace. Tell the experience of sucking down such compounds as carbon monoxide, sulfur dioxide, and hydrochloric acid to go take a hike. The .303 British rounds my Enfield fired had taken down pretty much every game animal on Earth in the hands of skilled shooters, and were used in Spitfires and Hurricanes to take down Luftwaffe _aircraft_ during WWII. One went off mere centimeters from my ears. My tortured head now felt like Satan himself had put a hellish construction crew to work building a bridge across the River Styx… inside my head. The telltale piercing ringing indicated that my already slightly damaged hearing was going to get significantly worse.

I looked up to see one of the Sharpclaw pitching backwards, its body fading out of existence even before it hit the ground. I felt Krystal fumble with the bolt, feeding another round into the gun. I was then treated to another exquisitely unique sonic experience, unmatched even by my standing ten feet from the stage(and the thirty foot-tall wall of speakers) at an Alice in Chains concert a few months ago. Even with my bell rung like it was, at least it meant that I wasn't about to get clubbed to death by a rampaging Sharpclaw, as it met the same fate as its brethren.

I scrambled out of the tunnel, the ringing in my ears the only thing I could hear. Krystal immediately followed suit, casting me a worried glance. She spoke something, but I simply shook my head. She repeated it, practically yelling considering how she moved in closer and looked like she was nearly screaming, but I couldn't hear it over the ringing.

What she did next was completely unexpected. She walked right up to me and gently placed her paws on my cheeks. Her eyes bored into mine, concern and perhaps a shade of fear apparent in them. Her voice carried into my mind, at least temporarily breaking the barrier of my deafness. _'Are you okay?_'

Responding to her telepathic communication by thinking back just seemed wrong. Maybe it was because humans weren't designed that way. Maybe because I didn't want to feel any crazier than I already was. That's why I spoke out loud. "I can't hear you and I think I'm going to need something a lot stronger than Excedrin when I get home, but I'm still in this game!" I tried not to shout, but it was a natural reaction.

The vixen simply frowned at me as she shook her head. '_You're injured. I can't start healing you here, but we need to get you off this mountain. My ship has a basic medical scanner and some supplies, which I think we both need. I'm sorry to bring you into all of this, Adam. You're scared and you're in pain, but we _have_ to keep on fighting.'_

I nodded. She was the telepath here and there wasn't any use hiding the fact I was scared shitless. Something else came to mind, which I voiced. "Why didn't you sense them? Is there something wrong?"

_'The gas, I think. I'm unable to concentrate like I should. Normally I could communicate with you like this without physical contact, but it's taking all of my willpower just to do this. My head hurts very badly and I feel… disconnected. We must be careful, and we need to find Tricky before he runs into any more Sharpclaw.'_ With that she removed her paws from my face, giving them a glance. She frowned and turned her palms towards me. Her fingers were wet with blood. My blood.

I sighed and turned away. That meant I had ruptured eardrums nd wasn't going to regain my hearing back anytime soon. I couldn't hear, and Krystal couldn't sense. We had to be very much on our toes. "Keep close to me. I need you to be my ears. We gotta make it through this, somehow!"

Her paw fell upon my shoulder, the only thought going to my mind was a calm _'We will.'_ With that we both started forward, as prepared as we were going to get to pull Tricky's fat out of another fire.


	7. Chapter 7: Blood on the Ice 2 of 2

**Notes: This one is long overdue, and for that I'm extremely sorry. Without getting into a long, overly personal story, it's been hard to get the motivation to write up until very recently. Hopefully this knocks some writer's block out of the good 'ol brain and spurs some interest in getting some more done in this story and a possible revamping of ZP. Unfortunately I can't promise another chapter getting done very soon, but it's entirely possible. Thanks for bearing with me.**

Chapter 7: Blood on the Ice, Pt. 2

"Give me a minute." I hopefully said that before we made it a few yards down the frozen pathway. Normally you can hear yourself talk, even if you are wearing earplugs. The total lack of sound made it harder than I would have thought to function. Even the muffled speech you would receive with shooting protection clamped around your ears just wasn't there.

Krystal was ahead of me by a couple of yards. She came to a halt in the hardpacked snow, giving me a chance to more fully survey the area. As was typical of the game, the frozen wasteland was strewn with remnants of fallen trees jutting out of the ground like monuments to ancient fallen warriors; bizarre alien plantlife particular to this tundra was also in abundance. I was going off of how things would work on Earth, but timberline was typically around 11,000 feet; we were significantly below that for trees to actually survive. The ones which had tried to survive here were huge, although the fact that we were simply running down an ancient riverbed was something I needed to take into account.

My vulpine ally's actions stopped my survey and thoughts about the local geography. During that time she had turned towards me and reached out, her hand falling upon my arm. At the present time it was the only line of communication we had; I forced back thoughts of awkwardness. As if I were thinking of it directly, her speech entered my mind. It was disjointing at first, yet telepathic communication was surprisingly easy to grasp. _'What is it? Are you okay?'_

I spoke back verbally; it was a bit easier to get a hang of. I was new to all of this; considering twenty-four hours ago I had been playing games on my laptop, not even realizing I would be traipsing through a frozen wasteland with a video game character in a mere day's time. "I need a few minutes. I need to reload my magazines and catch my breath." As I spoke I started to do just that; my hands pulled one of the empty M1911 mags out of my utility belt. Ammunition was about to become a rare commodity as much as I was flying through it.

Krystal closed her eyes and lowered her head; I wasn't sure if she was also exhausted or expressing her disapproval. It turned out to be the latter. _'I understand your need for rest, but the Prince is in danger. We can't stop now. If the Sharpclaw catch him, he's dead!'_ She had a point, but a stray thought had also entered my mind; one which needed to be voiced.

"You heard him. There's something out there killing the Sharpclaw besides us. They're not the only potential threat." I pointed down the steep wash for emphasis. "They've not only beefed up their numbers, but we don't know what that threat is. It could be Lylatian pirates, Venomians... Hell, for all we know we could be walking into a bunch of pissed off Columbian drug cartel soldiers!" Considering the fact I was in an already ridiculous situation and there were likely more of those orbs floating around Earth, what was stopping _other_ people from being here as well? And just because there might be other humans here didn't somehow mark them as friendly.

She stood there for a moment, hopefully digesting my words. I think the mental image that had popped up of an enraged, coked-up enforcer wielding an AKM made her understand my wish to be ready for a big scrape. We were already being pushed to our limits by Sharpclaw; if we started facing blasters or modern firearms we'd be in a mess of trouble. _'Alright, but I'm scouting ahead.'_ She pointed down the path, mirroring my action. _'If I find anything strange I'll come back.'_

As she stalked down the draw I found a nearby tree stump to sit on and started to reload my exhausted firearms. The rounds felt like blocks of ice in my hands; by the time I put my gloves back on my fingers were completely numb. I had just about exhausted all the rounds I had brought with me, and I wasn't sure if they would be enough. I topped up my firearms and grasped my Enfield with as much strength as my rebelling digits could muster. I was as ready as I would ever be.

I started forward; suddenly completely aware of my complete lack of hearing and the fact I was alone. If Krystal got jumped I wouldn't hear her. Likewise, I wouldn't be able to hear anything on my end, and that made it all the more dangerous. Frankly, I was miserable. Blame it on my naiveté, but I had figured that I could have stood a chance to clean house. I may have been using a nearly century-old rifle, but it was a firearm up against Sharpclaws' combined clubs, axes, swords, and halberds. They may have had the odd cannon or two, but I figured this would have been far easier than it had been.

We were surviving. That was about it. Our enemies were giving as much as they got. I was in pain, cold, numb, and nursing one of the biggest headaches I've ever had. I would have permanent hearing damage, on top of the fact it was _already_ damaged from some stupid choices when I was sixteen. The headache and lack of hearing made it very hard to concentrate.

It almost killed me. I felt a slight shudder underneath my feet, but that was all the warning I got. As if it were conjured out of thin air, a long, snake-like beast simply erupted from the snow right next to me. I didn't have a chance to react before it struck. The only thing I could think of at the time was that it was inhumanly _fast._

A white-hot, stabbing pain ripped across my left side, causing me to fall backwards. My rifle fell out of my grasp, landing in the snow; the firearm subsequently tumbling in the loosely packed powder well out of my reach. I couldn't hear anything, but I could tell I was letting loose the loudest scream that my vocal cords ever deigned to produce. The snake-beast was staring at me, its beady eyes regarding me as if I were some sort of new prey. Blood was spattered all over its maw; its beak holding a long strip of flesh and cloth. _My_ flesh, cloth, and blood. It took all I had to not puke as it snapped its beak up and swallowed the chunk whole. It just _ate_ a piece of me.

Everything happened in slow motion. My side was already awash with the sticky sensation of blood. It felt like someone had taken a red-hot poker and shoved it into my abdomen, dousing everything with a bottle of vodka for good measure. My subconscious mind was screaming only one thing at me: if I didn't stop this fucker, I was going to die. I was going to become its Happy Meal. I wasn't going to accept that.

My right hand flew to my 1911 out of its own volition. As the snake beast arched back for a strike at my throat, my pistol was already up in the air. I still heard nothing, only feeling the cold block of steel snap against my hand as I pulled the trigger. The snake reacted as if I had hit it with a baseball bat, but I continued to fire. By the time it hit the ground four or five hollowpoint rounds had nearly torn it in half.

The stabbing pain, numbing cold, and exhaustion had all contributed to drowsiness. It wouldn't be too bad if I could just sleep a little bit. Regain strength. I had enough sense to lower my pistol to the snowy ground before closing my eyes. I must have blacked out. Was it blood loss? Pain? Exhaustion? I wasn't sure. I didn't much care, either.

* * *

Something 'exploded' in my mind, like some internal burst of light. The only thing I could liken it to was an ER visit several years ago. I had a massive allergic reaction to some medication I was prescribed, and in order to combat the severe pain I was given morphine. I could feel it travel up my arm, and once it reached my head it just 'burst' and all the pain I had felt had been turned off like it was a light switch. What had just happened was comparable, except the pain was still present and it was the sapping drowsiness that simply disappeared. I snapped my eyes open, biting back another scream of pain.

Krystal was hovering over me, a worried expression upon her features. Her mental monologue came to me once more. '_Thank the Maker you're awake. You're bleeding badly, but we don't have time! Sharpclaw are coming because they heard your weapon!_'

"Fuck!" I groaned, struggling to sit up. That didn't go anywhere, partially due to the blinding pain and partially because my vulpine friend was holding me down. "What are we going to do?"

'_We need to stop your bleeding and hold them off. I know you're in great pain, but if we don't do this we're not going to survive.'_ She glanced up, her lips curled up into a determined snarl. '_I'm not going to let either you or Tricky die by their hands.'_

"First aid kit." I muttered. "Utility belt. Rearmost pocket. You're gonna have to help me." Krystal's response was a curt nod as she reached behind me to unzip the large storage pocket on the belt. It was something I picked up for hiking trips that never really happened, but in this case it carried ammo, water, and the aforementioned first aid kit. After a momentary struggle she extracted it; it was an old Army one I had bought years ago and restocked.

I didn't know what I was doing. I had the kit mainly for minor cuts and burns; I worked on cars and electronics so those injuries were somewhat common. I didn't think I'd be using it to patch up major lacerations, especially not my own. She was too busy pawing through the contents to lay a hand on me and communicate. I was half-expecting her to tell me that she hadn't a clue how to use what was likely a very primitive kit by Lylatian standards.

She didn't, however. She gathered what looked to me like a softball-sized wad of gauze and held it to my wound; I did the best I could to keep pressure on things. At least that's what I was told to do in health class in high school. Clumsily, I helped her wrap a bandage tightly around my midsection to help stop the bleeding. It wasn't ideal, but it would have to do. There was so much blood; my gloves were soaked through with it. So were hers. We didn't have time to deal with the mess. Krystal hastily scooped my rifle up, placing it in my hands. _'We make our stand here. I can hear them, get ready!'_

She readied her staff as I tried to steady the Enfield. The pain made it difficult to concentrate. I had to hold the rifle at an angle as I couldn't get up. My blood-slickened gloves didn't allow much purchase on my weapon, but I would have to make do. I uttered a silent prayer as the first group of Sharpclaw ran towards us, brandishing weapons which promised far more grievous wounds than what that snake had accomplished.

Krystal fired first, the tip of her staff giving off a brilliant yellow glow before emitting a glob of flame which impacted the nearest Sharpclaw with great force. It was sent to the ground as if a giant had kicked it. I then regained enough of my senses to bracket one in my sights and pull the trigger. Between the angle I was firing from and the tenuous grip I had on the Enfield, the recoil battered me. My Cerinian ally fired again as I struggled to work the bolt, a practice which we somehow kept up.

I lost track of how many rounds I had fired. The pain was almost unbearable; the Enfield's snapping into my shoulder making me feel like my arm was the target for a professional boxer's rage. Even the Sharpclaw closing in were starting to become blurry, a side effect from my wounds and all I had been through? I wasn't built for this. I wasn't used to this. My body was betraying me, and for once in my life I didn't blame it. Still, I had to fight with every last bit of strength that I had left. I worked the Enfield's bolt and jerked the trigger. The recoil didn't come. Empty chamber. I dropped the spent rifle and snatched my pistol out of the snow. Darkness wavered on the edge of my vision as I fired, the .45 bucking in my blood-slickened gloves. The slide locked back as my vision finally gave up on me, welcoming me into the embrace of total darkness.

* * *

The pain had returned. The reprieve of unconsciousness felt like it had only lasted mere moments before the stabbing agony in my side came back to haunt me. The pounding headache, miraculously, was gone. Another marked difference was that instead of the nearly inaudible buzzing noise in my head, my ears were picking up that annoying, high-pitched ringing as if you were subjected to one of those elementary school hearing tests. Maybe my eardrums weren't completely FUBAR just yet.

Another revelation slowly came to my senses. I was wet. Completely soaked through. I wasn't as mind-numbingly frozen as I had been before, but my clothes clung to me in that stiff, barely yielding way that only soaked jeans and sweatshirts really would. I can't begin to express that the exact sensation I was enduring was one which that small neurotic part of my brain just couldn't stand. If it meant stripping down to my boxers and a T-shirt until I could get my ass home, I was going to do it.

I sat bolt upright or at least tried to; my frame was instantly pinned to the ground by hands gripping my shoulders. My eyes snapped open, my hand instinctively reaching for the pistol strapped to my thigh until I realized the bright green eyes staring back at me belonged to a certain vixen I knew. Her expression was of instant relief, something which caused me to balk as I took a quick glance down. I was completely soaked through except for what looked like a recently reapplied bandage across my midsection. The gauze was still spotting through with blood in areas. Her voice once more carried into my mind. _'You're awake! I was afraid we had lost you. Please, don't struggle; you've lost much of your blood.'_ I was beginning to tire of all the telepathic communication. Damn my ringing ears.

I glanced around for a split instant, trying to get my bearings. Judging by the cold stone I was laying on, the mossy bricks replacing blue sky above our heads, and the wooden supports holding the entire works together we were in the mineshaft which led back to Thorntail Hollow. I was soaked through and so was Krystal; to be frank about it she looked like a drowned rat with clothes on. That meant she dragged my ass off of that mountain. She saved my life, literally. "How long was I out?" I asked tentatively; I was afraid to find out.

_'A few hours. You blacked out while the Sharpclaw were attacking us. I managed to hold them off until they decided to retreat. I couldn't wake you, so I had to bring you down myself. I was afraid you weren't going to survive.'_ She turned away just then, glancing down the mineshaft. _'I couldn't bring your rifle; I couldn't fight with the combined weight.'_

Scratch my most effective weapon. Christ. The loss of my Enfield stung, but unless I wanted to trudge back up to pluck it out of the snow it was going to stay there. "Damn it." I huffed a sigh at her. "I know you did your best, but it's a pretty bad drawback." I brushed my hand against my waist, reassuring myself that my utility belt was still attached. Most of my pistol ammunition was there. The rifle afforded a longer reach and better stopping power, but if all we had were my pistols and shotgun they would have to do.

_'We need to get you back to my ship.'_ The Cerinian gave a worried frown, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and gently easing me into a sitting position. _'You're in bad shape and I'm going to need some attention as well.'_ As she mentioned this she helped me to my feet, making sure to keep my wound as steady as possible. _'I can get the Warpstone to teleport us there. You won't have far to walk.'_

"How did you get me past all that?" I inquired as we started down the rough-hewn path back to Thorntail Hollow. "I mean, you had to lift me up ledges, fight off Sharpclaw, and somehow swim back here. I was dead weight." The fact she would do that for someone she just met was astounding. She was more effective in a scrap than I was, and…

Her mental rebuke cut me off. _'You are too hard on yourself. We are watching each other's tails.'_ I was reminded that she could read my thoughts when we were like this._ 'I could have easily died back in that lava pit, but you dragged me up. It wasn't easy, but I wasn't going to leave you to bleed to death up there. I had to rely on all of our resources to do it.'_

"All of our resources?" I glanced down to find that my 1911 was tucked in her waistband; along with the Taurus I was letting her use. The image of standing over my unconscious form, driving off Sharpclaw troops with my pistols after she had ran out of energy for her staff flashed into my mind. Did she send that one, or was that a figment of my imagination?

_'It was real.'_ Her response was to the point. We emerged into the warm, sunlit air of Thorntail Hollow. My chilled, soaked, pain-wracked body was instantly grateful for it. The all too recent exposure to the frozen wasteland we fought through wasn't something I wanted to relive anytime soon. Unfortunately, we were going to have to go through there again.

_'You mean the voice calling out to me as we went into the tunnels? We have to free him, yes. But, his life isn't in danger. We need to attend to ourselves or we may be killed.' _Krystal helped me to the ladder which led back down to the temperate valley. As she did so she guided me behind her, my arms wrapping around her shoulders. It was about the only way we could get down, unless I wanted to split my wound open or jump down and risk breaking my legs.

We made it down without incident, her original plan of getting us to her ship beginning with one quick march towards the Warpstone. Even though I had lost one of my most effective weapons, the chance to get my wounds healed and some rest was what propelled me forward. Maybe something would go my way for once. However, the bad day was inevitably turned even worse.

Tricky came bounding up to us as if he were being chased by more Sharpclaw. He looked like he was shouting something, though with the ringing in my ears I couldn't tell what it could have been even without the language barrier. Krystal was too busy responding to him to provide a translation, and without any ceremony I was yanked along as she moved forward as fast as she could carry me. As we reached the creek she swept me up into her arms and forded it as if I were merely a piece of equipment. In response to my unanswered question, her only words were _'There's no time to explain!'_

Afterwards we rushed into the small crevice which held the Earthwalker Queen. Tricky had made it there before us, and I got my first glimpse at the massive triceratops. She was as long as my car and about twice as tall; she was probably far heavier than my land yacht as well. As I gazed upon her majestic form slumped against the wall of the crevice, I was once again reminded of a little factoid I had forgotten: she gets extremely sick and has to be fed those white mushrooms in order to regain her strength.

_'This happens in your entertainment program?' _Krystal asked, a scowl appearing on her muzzle. _'She might die before we can get our own treatment. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to help her before I can attend to your wounds. Will you stay here and watch over them?'_

I shook my head. I may have been badly hurt but I knew what lurked beneath that well. There weren't other Sharpclaw, per se, but it was still pretty dangerous. It was teeming with those red mushrooms I had wisely avoided. If the spore clouds they emitted were enough to cause damage to Fox in the game, they might be almost lethal in reality. "I'm going with you. You saved my ass, and I'm not letting you go alone."

The vixen cast an incredulous look at me, her emerald eyes full of surprise and concern. _'You're wounded and can't hear anything. You're in no shape to fight and we don't have time to heal you!'_

I glanced right back at her. "I have an idea. You're just going to have to trust me."


	8. Chapter 8: Collective Bargaining

**Notes: Yep, I'm actually updating this one after nearly a year.**

**I recently found this chapter mostly completed on one of my flash drives, so I decided to finish it off and post it. I might continue this one for fun, but by no means have I stopped work on Zero Point, for those of you who are watching both of these stories. I have most of the next chapter on that one written, but I just wanted a bit of a break so I finished this one off; even if it just shows that I'm alive and still spending time on the keyboard.**

**I've been neglecting this one quite a bit. Fact of the matter is since it shares much of a premise of Zero Point it's beginning to feel like just another version of the same minus the Brian/Krystal fluff and the strict military hardware. Since ZP seems to be the far more popular story I'll likely keep my primary focus on it, instead. Thoughts and perspective would be quite helpful, obviously.**

**Future updates from me will unfortunately be sporadic; I may post quite a bit only to disappear for a while. Truth be told there's some very major changes coming down the pipe, including a move cross-country(hint: I'm not too far from South Park right now; I won't be too far from where Duck Dynasty's filmed once the dust all settles), a major career change, more school, and perhaps a better, overall more stable life. I'm alternately dreading the move and looking forward to it. Anyway, enjoy the show. I'll be back soonish, or at least I'm hoping.**

* * *

Chapter 8: Collective Bargaining.

"Okay, let me down." Krystal complied with my wish, setting me down gently at the base of the tree I had pointed her toward. As my hearing was still literally shot her telepathy was the only way she could effectively communicate with me. Would I get it back, and if so how long would it take? Was I looking at a recovery time of hours, or days? We didn't have either.

_'Danger or no, I can't let you join me in this condition, Adam.'_ Krystal glanced down at me, her hand still placed upon my shoulder. _'You've lost much blood and you're in no shape to go back into combat.'_ She was concerned, yes, but I still had to make sure I could get back into the fight somehow.

"See that tree over there next to this one?" I pointed towards the indicated foliage; directing her notice to the branches which were laden with cantaloupe-sized fruit. "In the game world those Dumbledang pods have healing qualities. It's worth a shot. All you need to do is give that tree a good smack with your staff. I'm pretty sure we're both starving and have time for a quick snack before helping the Queen."

After shooting me what looked like an exhausted glare she stood up and walked over to the tree. It looked like she was saying something, but I got nothing over the alternating buzzing and high-pitched ringing in my ears. She pulled her staff from the belt she had taken from my wardrobe, extended it, and took a pretty healthy swing at the tree. I was probably imaging it, but I could have sworn I faintly heard the _'crack'_ as she landed the strike. The tree swayed and three of the pods tumbled to the ground. Within a minute she had gathered them and made her way back to me. Another quick smack of the staff split one of them open, which she offered to me with a skeptical look on her vulpine features. Her hand once more returned to my shoulder for the chance of conversation. _'I don't think this will work, but I'll humor you. I expect you to watch the Queen and Tricky while I'm down there.'_

"Alright. If I don't heal right up I'll babysit them for you. Sheesh. You're as bad as my sister." My voice likely carried along a pretty healthy dose of sarcasm, but I tried livening it up with a silly grin before glancing down to my meal. The fruit itself was a deep orange with no visible seeds, the glistening texture of its meat reminiscent to a grapefruit. Good thing I wasn't much affected by sour tastes; I could eat grapefruit all day. Lacking a spoon all I really could do was dig in with my hands.

The Dumbledang pod was pretty tasty. It wasn't ambrosia, but if my local Kroger carried them a few would be on my weekly shopping list. It was sweet but not too sweet. The taste was indescribable, somewhat like a cross between a grape and a pear; its own unique flavor added an exotic note to the whole thing. Considering the last thing I had eaten was a can of tuna and some crackers several hours ago, I wolfed it down like it was a free steak dinner at one of those ritzy restaurants my cousin liked to blog about.

I wasn't expecting miracles, though I didn't mind the sticky hands until they started feeling warm. I held them up to my face, my eyes widening as the warmth continued; various small scratches and my hangnails started to fade away as if they hadn't been there. My whole body felt invigorated, though it was obvious that the fruit's effects weren't a total cure-all. The buzzing and ringing ceased, which caused me to call over to Krystal. "I think I got my hearing back. Say something?"

"Really?" I could hear her response. It was tinny and muffled; like I had just been through a pretty intense rock concert, but I could actually _hear_ her. She looked up from her own pod, shooting me an expression which was either quizzical or one of annoyance. I hadn't quite gotten a peg on which was which. "Are you still bleeding?"

My side still felt pretty sore. Frankly it was hard to tell if I was still bleeding as the bandage was spotted through with blood. All I could tell was that it wasn't as agonizingly painful as it had been. What I neglected to tell her, however, was that I was in possibly the worst shape I had ever been in my life. She may have been a videogame character in some insane delusion of mine, but without her help I would have died. I couldn't let that particular good deed go unpunished. "I'm not sure, but it feels much better. Enough to do some spelunking." I shot her a wry grin; she wasn't getting rid of me that easily.

"You're a stubborn one." With a sigh she nodded towards the direction of the well; her accent giving her an almost matronly tone when she spoke. "You can come along. Just be careful and let me know if you're not doing well." We continued to eat in silence, our brief respite giving us a chance to actually take in the beauty of the place.

The morning air was fresh and scented with the mixture of blooming flowers and pine trees which grew in the areas farther from the valley. The sun was low enough to still cast the place in a reddish-orange glow, giving the place an ethereal quality which made me wish I had my camera. It likely still had a charge; I'd be taking that along with me once I got back to the house. The constant rush of water from the nearby creek stilled my thoughts for a moment; if I hadn't been fighting for my life for the past day or so I would have thought I was relaxing in a national park.

Krystal looked like she was enjoying the brief break as well. She looked worse than I felt; giving credence to the possibility this wasn't some sort of dream. Her headfur was mussed up like she had gotten out of bed, and the clothes I had given her were soaked and bloodstained. That was my blood, most likely. We were running ragged, but we still had a job to do. It was hard to, especially with the peace and quiet. We may have been in the eye of the storm, but my habit of procrastination got the better of me. I finished the Dumbledang pod and tucked the rind next to the tree I was reclined against, the sunshine warming my body against the chill of my damp clothes.

The break was over all too soon. My Cerinian ally stood up and extended a hand to me, which I reluctantly took. Partially as I wasn't all that comfortable with physical contact, and partially because I really didn't want this break to be over. We both needed more rest than this, but it was time to buck up and do what we needed to do. With her help I managed to my feet, feeling much better than I had been when she set me down. "Thanks." I offered, taking stock of my physical condition. I felt a little jittery and cold, my headache was still a nagging presence, and I wasn't about to peel off Krystal's bandage job to check my side. It would have to do.

"We've got enough time to get into some new clothes and find some supplies at your place." Krystal led the way as I strode behind her, listening to her explanation as we went. "We're going to need a light source, and possibly some rope. We may need your other long weapon, too. What did you call it, a shotgun?" I didn't think I had mentioned it around her, to be honest.

"Yeah. It's what I've got the most ammo for, too." We reached my house, which stood on land alien to Sauria yet native to my homeworld. I could see parts of the fences which had surrounded it, cut as if someone had taken a giant laser and surgically removed my dwelling off the face of the Earth. Something nagged at the back of my mind. The place felt _dead._ The life had been sucked out of it somehow. It sounded silly, but it was the only way I could describe it. "I've got a couple of flashlights, but no rope. You still have my .45?"

She paused for a moment, plucking my handgun from the waistband of her borrowed pants; the weapon soon returning to my grasp. As we made it onto my front porch I checked the chamber and the magazine. I would need to stock up on ammo, but at least I was still in the green for now. "I should have enough for mine. We don't have much time, so let's make this quick." I blinked at her answer to my unspoken question and her down-to-business attitude.

"I get that a lot." She smirked at me. I rolled my eyes as we entered the house. This was going to be a very long day indeed.

* * *

Getting out of damp, bloody clothing was a little slice of heaven after our ordeal on the mountain. It didn't make up for the fuzzy hearing, headache, or blood loss, but it was a start. The bad news was that my leather jacket was neigh near ruined. Damn thing had cost me an entire paycheck. I guess it didn't matter now, other than the fact it was one more link to home down the drain. I opted for a pair of slacks and a fresh T-shirt; simple yet a bit more comfortable and easier to move around in. At this rate I would be out of clean clothes pretty soon, taking into account how many pairs of pants Krystal would have to make alterations to.

The bandage job was holding out nicely despite the pain; I had popped a few aspirin to manage it as best I could. The thought that I should be in a hospital kept running through my mind, but that wasn't exactly an option I could take. With a sigh I opened the door to my bedroom, revealing Krystal sitting on my couch with the duffel bags I had plucked from the basement. She was rooting through them, presumably trying to find supplies.

"I found a pair of what look like utility vests. Here, put one on." Without further preamble she tossed one to me. I barely caught it; John was one of those people who were fairly well prepared for a 'shit hits the fan' scenario. It was already loaded with magazines and other gear. It would have been great, except I didn't have access to the firearms the magazines were intended to go into. All in all I tossed six AK and four Glock mags back into the bag; replacing them with the ones for my .45 and a copious amount of shotgun shells.

"And this." I could see her grin as she handed my old sword to me, patting her hip expectantly. "You won't have any ammunition troubles with it at least. Once we have some time I'll train you." Yeah. Getting the crap smacked out of me in a sparring session was something I was _really_ looking forward to.

I attached the weapon to the vest's integrated pistol belt after transferring all of my other stuff to it. It fit better than my utility belt and was overall better-balanced, though I failed to see what Krystal was trying to do with all of it. "And this matters how?" I inquired, noticing she was sporting the vest John had meant for his now ex-wife. Like I mentioned, the guy was a bit of a preparation nut.

"You said it was dangerous to go down there, and we haven't had a good record of keeping it together so far." The vixen had a point; her plans had a pretty good success rate so far while I was surviving by the skin of my teeth. "You're going to run out of ammunition eventually, and unlike blasters these things require constant reloading. If you don't have other options to fall back on you're going to get yourself killed."

"Fine." I huffed, turning around and retrieving my shotgun. That was non-negotiable, and frankly the idea of me running around with a sword and going Conan on a bunch of Sharpclaw was neigh near ridiculous. "But, until I'm desperate in the ammo department Mr. Sharp and Pointy is going to be my last line of defense."

"Alright." She continued to root through the bags, another question asked as a _non sequitor_. "You mentioned it being dangerous down there. What sorts of foes will we face? More Sharpclaw?" That was the $64,000 question I actually had the answer to; at least I thought I did.

"Nothing we're going to have to shoot, stab, or smash. Our main problem is going to be those huge red mushrooms. They seem to release a cloud of spores when agitated, and I'm afraid they might be very dangerous. They may even be lethal." Visions of that old _X-Files_ episode filled my mind; I didn't want to buy the farm that way.

"We'll need breathing protection, then." Krystal summed it up in one. The only question was how and where to obtain it. "Is that what these for?" The vixen held up two more objects from John's duffel bag; the slightly unnerving, Darth Vader-escue profiles of gas masks staring me in the face. "I doubt these would fit me."

"Our anatomical differences would make it difficult at best." I replied, plucking the mask from her outstretched grasp. "That was John's hobby, preparing and training for the Zombie Apocalypse or some other collapse of society scenario that he thought was remotely possible." We still needed to find something for her to use, although the thought of going it alone crossed my mind.

That was quickly quashed. "You are _not_ going down there by yourself. I am not exaggerating the fact you very nearly died just a few hours ago. You might feel fine now, but we have no idea how long those healing effects are going to last." She looked up at me again, and I could see how exhausted she actually was. We both were running on empty. No amount of posturing or pride was going to help; brutal honesty and smart decisions were the only way we were going to live through this. "I know you're trying to protect me, and your willingness to do so is admirable. However, if you get even more seriously injured or killed, all your effort will be for naught."

"So will yours." My reply caused Krystal to glance back down at the duffel bags, an almost imperceptible sigh given in response to that simple truth. "We're both tired, injured, and in serious need of regrouping. We don't have the time to do that yet, so we need to rely on each other. Going down there alone is dangerous, but you don't have the proper equipment…"

"…I have an idea." Krystal replied, gesturing towards the door. "Kyte told me of a hermit named Shabunga here in Thorntail Hollow. He's a merchant of sorts, scavenging whatever he can find to sell to Saurians; mostly Sharpclaw and Lightfoot. It's common knowledge he found and stripped a few Lylatian wrecks. He likely has a LISA that I could use."

"A lisa?" I arched an eyebrow at her. "I'm going to assume you aren't talking about hiring someone named Lisa to jump into that well on your behalf." Though, I had to admit that if we could find a temp agency for unlikely do-gooders such as ourselves I wouldn't be too hesitant to hand over my credit card.

That remark caused her to chuckle. "No, no… I mean a Life Support Array, LISA for short. It's a standard addition to a pilot's flight suit; uses power packs to provide atmosphere. It's good for up to three hours in vacuum. If we can find one I will be adequately protected against the lava fumes in addition to the mushroom spores."

I nodded. "That will definitely help. This gas mask you found should provide similar protection for me. After that we'll be set. Let's get over to that shop and see what kind of deal we can wheedle out of that 'ol miser."

* * *

For the second time in this crazy, meandering adventure I strode into Shabunga's cavern storefront. The two of us had spent the previous half hour fishing up scarabs from under rocks and in the little hidey-holes they made in the ground. Krystal's telepathy helped big-time in seeking the creatures out; once we had some downtime I wanted to ask her exactly how her talents worked.

As expected, the aging, cantankerous Saurian hovered over to us expectantly, his beady eyes regarding our human and vulpine forms with a mixture of disdain and greed. She held one of my pillowcases, puffed outward with the squirming, snapping insects we acquired. The shopkeeper's gaze seemed to drift towards it with more frequency than he regarded either of us. "Welcome to my store. Now are you going to stare around or are you going to actually buy something?"

"We're here to buy." I got straight to the point. We didn't have time to waste and the feeling was mutual on his end. "We're looking for anything you might have scavenged from Lylatian wrecks. A pilot's suit and life support system, in particular. Got anything like that?"

The shopkeeper blinked at us, perhaps dredging up a memory of what he actually kept in the subterranean bazaar we currently occupied. After an awkward pause he nodded, maneuvering his hoverchair towards an entrance to one of the numerous subsections inside the main cave. "All my _salvaged_ goods are in here. Feel free to take a look, but I don't suffer cheapskates."

We followed him inside what I recalled as the cavern where the scarab gambling game was played. In reality the pit was filled with several tables upon which piles of equipment were placed. I assumed most of them were starship components; by the way Krystal started rifling through them she was hot on the trail of what she was looking for. I decided to browse through several of them, though I figured I wouldn't know what anything was used for.

I was more or less correct about that. Other than several weapons I assumed to be blaster pistols and rifles that looked far beyond my skill level to repair, the tables of alien technology held more mysteries to me than they did answers. Most of it looked like discarded electronic components and broken computers; stuff that nobody would really have a use for.

Something did catch my eye, however. A twisted mass of nearly inch thick cables and very heavy-duty tiedowns were haphazardly piled at the foot of one of the tables. The beginnings of an idea entered my mind as I moved closer to inspect the cables. They looked quite sturdy; perhaps far sturdier than what I had in mind.

I reached out to grasp them but from out of nowhere a scaly hand smacked my palm away. Shaunga's irritated, croaking voice rasped out from just behind me. "No touching _anything_ without paying for it. Fifty scarabs."

We had collected somewhere between thirty and fifty, which didn't leave enough for Krystal's breathing gear. I didn't see her close by, so I decided to ply the shopkeeper for more information. "Where did you find all this, anyway?" I adopted my best barely interested tone of voice and posture.

"Years ago a Lylatian craft crashed nearby, furless one." Shabunga sounded impatient, as if he was waiting for something. He had likely negotiated with Krystal, but where was she? "After the crew was rescued nobody bothered to take along any of the wreckage, so I took what I could sell to the Sharpclaw and Lightfoot."

I was about to respond but was cut off by the sound of footsteps behind me. I turned around and tried not to gawk a second time. Krystal stood a few feet away, dressed in the flight gear I assumed she had just purchased. It was almost exactly like her outfit in _Assault_, except for the fact the colors were a dark green and black. The form-fitting suit looked simply stunning on her athletic frame, and the bashful smile on her features just simply sealed the deal. I would have given a thousand dollars for my camera right at that moment, but as it was I had left it back inside the house. "Uhm, did you find something?" She gestured over to the table with her left hand; her right arm was cradling a full-faced flight helmet with polarized eyepieces. It looked like something right out of _Star Wars_.

"Some cables that could be good for climbing or hauling some pretty heavy stuff." I motioned her to the equipment, which she regarded with a puzzled glance. "How much do we have left after your gear?"

"Fifteen scarabs. My LISA was thirty. We don't really need to save anything right now, so you can buy them if you really want to." I hoped she caught onto the fact I was planning something.

"No, that's too low." Shabunga piped in with that particularly annoying nugget. It would have been irritating even if I hadn't already heard it several hundred times while playing the damned game. Time to shut him up.

"Listen. I'm willing to bet these cables have been sitting down here for many years and you haven't had the least bit of interest. I'm offering you what we have left. You already sold my friend some gear that couldn't possibly fit any Saurian at a pretty tidy profit." I waved over toward the vixen, motioning to the flightsuit she now wore. "You didn't pay jack shit for any of this. Take it or leave it."

With a heavy sigh Shabunga conceded. "Oh, alright. It'll save me the shelf space. Just take it and get out." As Krystal passed him the pillowcase full of squirming insect currency I slung the mass of cables over my shoulders. They were pretty heavy, but far lighter than what I would have expected. Apparently Lylatian technologies used some very strong yet lightweight materials.

As we clambered out of the shop my impassive expression finally cracked, firing off a grin which should have been on a cat that found its way into an aviary. Krystal's expression was more like the one I would have expected from a worried parent. "Exactly what happened back there? I don't figure you bought those if we can't use them."

"It'll have to wait after we fish those mushrooms out of that well, but I've got an idea how we can use these to great effect." As we skipped over the creek I made a beeline for my car, which happened to be about the only secure place I could really store something. It took a moment for me to extract the ziplock bag holding my car keys from one of the vest's pockets, but within moments the mass of cables were stored and locked in the trunk.

As I was dumping the new purchase into my car, Krystal made her point perfectly clear. "After we help the Queen, we need to get ourselves looked at. I'm still not convinced the fruit you found is anything more than a temporary respite. We also need food and a safe place to sleep. Your dwelling is too easily compromised. I think we should try to get to my ship after our business here."

She had a pretty good point. My doors wouldn't be too hard for some whackjob on PCP to kick down. Considering even the smaller Sharpclaw were about the size of your average NFL linebacker there wouldn't be a contest. As long as the house was still standing when we got back there was still a chance that my crazy, harebrained scheme would actually pay off. "Alright. I'll load up the car before we go down that well. I'm not planning on walking all the way to your ship if I can help it."


End file.
